With all those frizzing wisps standing free
from the keen faces of our Canadian poets
It is hard to deny
the presence
of a prescribed aesthetic
of a genetic predisposition
toward the production of metaphor and
tactless, accurate nut-shelling of experience
the curling locks an indication
of a refusal to accept
that which is uncomplicated
or unapproachable
or unspoken
~ Pamela S. Mosher
Pamela S. Mosher is native to […]
This is no place to fall in lovewith the banks of the Seinesmelling of piss and the locals indignant, dismissive.Angry at the necessity of“les touristes, les touristes.” Flocking into the cityeach summer every […]
Standing at the edge of a cliff,
Looking down at rolling ocean waves
While making your own spray,
The wind pushes back,
Blowing droplets of ammonia
Onto clothes and onto your face.
It is not the end of the world.
You can go on,
Climb back in the car and drive
Who knows where,
But wherever you go
You will take with you
The taste of the […]
The “you” that is you,
or may be you,
and the “I” that I am,
or could be
are mere instruments,
fiddles without bows,
waiting for fingers
to caress and pluck
our strings
and make us sing.
~ Joseph Farley
Joseph Farley edited Axe Factory for nearly a quarter century. His books include Suckers, For the Birds, and Longing for the Mother Tongue. His poems have […]
Yesterday, we buried apa, my father.
Today, I sit with people I do not know. Attend
a Mother’s Day brunch at the Hungarian Church hall.
Courtland township beside Lake Erie. Muddy, unpaved
roads: listening to the cimbalom. The zither.
Only yesterday we were singing a requiem to him.
“Your father bought the tickets,” mother says.
My son sitting beside me. Mama and […]
