Canada Day poem

Canada Day On this workless day, I think of Joy Kogawa, the family behind barbed wire, shunted in cars of corrugated tin into camps where the sun eats time in handfuls, the earth a hollowed bin of the heart’s unmaking. I think of women, the missing and the murdered, whose breath mushrooms into fog that creeps up Ottawa windows. Bones …

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A Typewriter in Flames

“A typewriter in flames is the metaphor here. To work in a medium which can be, has been, used as an instrument of trivialization and deceit, not to mention colonization…is different from working in a medium like stone, clay, paint, charcoal, even iron or steel. A poet cannot refuse language, but the poet can re-fuse …

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