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 […]
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 […]
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 in […]
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 […]
for Brian Wilson and family in Red Deer Over many days in the Summer of 1971, you are visiting the oldest patient in her room in the geriatrics ward of an Edmonton Alberta hospital. “How old are you?†“Oh, one hundred. Or so.†“When were you born?†“On the 22nd of June.†“What year?†“I […]
