my grandfather’s face sinks into red hollows he snarls I’m a liar makes me wash in the clawfoot tub drives my back to St. Ursula’s leaves me with Father Sylvestre to confess statues of saints watch from pedestals witness what happens so does the Madonna she must hear my cries yet when I look up […]
it’s night when the convoy arrives bringing expatriates from Wood Buffalo Park, Alberta; plains bison, returning to bald Saskatchewan prairie they’d once shared with the First Nations 71 ornery, wild-eyed hump-backed dinosaurs wearing capes of tangled wiry wool moonlight swathes the prairie in silvery blue; a small crowd waits, to greet, to celebrate they are […]
Put a poetry book on a table, Turn it at an askew angle And consider the tension that angle brings. ~ Kees Kapteyn Kees Kapteyn lives in Niagara, Ontario. A painter and writer, Kees has self-published two chapbooks, “Grubstreet” and “Coffee Salt,” as well as been published in magazines such as Canadian Stories, Novella, Corvid […]
Now, just look at this book. It’s so beautiful, dog-eared and beat up Having passed through hundreds of hands; This promiscuous book. The lines and creases of use are born on its cover And the words inside hold its nature Like a tender fleshed fruit. I love it deeply. ~ Kees Kapteyn Kees Kapteyn lives […]
I will spill drinks. I will break things unceremoniously, stick my foot in my mouth, but never chomp on my tongue. Because you love me I will forget some, but never the scars you hold; everything you say in quiet darkness. I will say the wrong thing, still sound awkward on the phone, bang my […]
