Saturday, September 26, 2015

Hugh Thomas


On the wall, a mirror
in which the policeman directs traffic
towards the cannibal.
It is midnight backwards;
everyone is going away
to plug in their attachments.
They are trapped in the maze
in which we are also trapped,
but I am going to go to sleep,
and you are going to look at the moon.

Hugh Thomas is a poet and translator living in Montreal, where he teaches mathematics at UQAM. His most recent chapbook, Six Swedish Poets, was published by above/ground press in August.

Friday, September 11, 2015

David Alexander


for Chris Alexander

There is no safe passage if we fail our children
for the price of a coffee as plazas explode

and crops fail far away and they barrel
what rain falls and pray there’s enough

for a sapling to grow but an apple won’t fall
yet you never go hungry or rise up in mutiny

but you wish on a star in a sky filled
with wishes and the sky falling dark

slaps ships filled with wishes but not enough water
and the ships spill our children and we lose them

and terrorists win or we bomb them and still
there are thousands more targets more children

so you rehash the virtue of quotas and targets
but there is no safe passage

David Alexander is the author of the chapbook Chicken Scratch from Puddles of Sky Press. He lives in Toronto.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Tara Azzopardi


We run around the block
throw balls against garage doors
in alleys
where cats spray
and raccoons eat their buffets
our running shoes will be ruined
by the end of summer

the air smells like hamburgers
gasoline and sun-baked concrete
when the knife-sharpening guy
turns the corner
ringing a bell
we grab our guns and run for cover

waiting for the mail to come
laughing at teenagers and their greasy jobs
their greasy-angry faces
wishing I was Spiderman for the 800th time

the detective agency is open for business
we make cards and promise
to find lost dogs
wallets and glasses

on Sundays
everyone is angry until we go to the lake
and for a while Dad teases
and Mom laughs at his jokes
for a while my brother spends time
reading comics with me
our dog is exhausted from swimming
I’m not so fat from swimming
we enjoy being away from our lives

I think about sex constantly
it’s abstract and alluring:
I want to make it with a vampire

can we get ice cream
and spy on the Nazi
who lives on the corner?

Tara Azzopardi writes, and sometimes makes visual art and music, in Peterborough, Ontario. She has worked on an organic farm, in construction, and at a Pioneer Village. Her first book, Last Stop, Lonesome Town, comes out from Mansfield Press this fall.