water drools
around teeth-like rocks,
growling
on a slope
that seems the mouth
of a wolf,
but really
grass isn’t fur,
and daisies don’t participate
in hunts.
why would a stream
pretend to be fierce?
does it stalk cattails
or perhaps clouds,
their taunting fleece?
~ Chris Crittenden
Chris Crittenden says that he is “a quirky hermit living in the easternmost town in Maine, just a few miles from the Canadian […]
the notes for my summer course cover the small table,
telling me that in the 1800’s,
irish women were regarded as an inferior race of females.
I read more,
my nana’s irish blood coursing through my veins,
the notes reporting that men would feel no qualms
raping these women.
I cannot help but stare in disgust at the paper.
from the neighboring building,
the […]
My dear child.
I remember you in your grandmother’s arms
she, with hands like spades
and not a lick of patience for the ignorant.
I don’t know what took you so far away.
Seems it wasn’t enough that
the land here rolls on forever
and the sky is big as you please.
But I know you girls want more these days,
your walls like […]
For the past six weeks, blue skies poetry has featured work by a different Alberta poet each day, as we explored the theme “Writing the Land.” Collected in celebration of the theme chosen for the 2007 Conference and AGM of the Writers Guild of Alberta, these poems have explored the keen interest writers have […]
the sky is so big in this place
it can fill the space between father and son
the land is a firmament under it
highways in straight lines
connect dots
stars on the landscape
we come from a place
where the lines on the land are not straight
where the map doesn’t always tell us
how to get there and the sky is much […]
