On this day of renewal, when we celebrate the miracle of life emerging from broken ground — I offer you the tenderness of this poem by George McWhirter. May you savour, with a joyful heart, “the roughest, dearest sugar of the fruit.” ON PANCAKE...
Each morning, I read poems — sometimes, a single drop of a poem that widens and ripples through my life all day; sometimes, a dancing river of poems that sweeps me towards a glimmering horizon. Poems restore my soul, return me to my beating heart, to my breath...
This poem, an excerpt from Adrienne Rich’s long-form poem, Contradictions, sings of this wild, windy, October Sunday. And of all the things that arrive “before we’re ready” — great, crashing angels bearing the spilling light of our future...
Seamus Heaney died in Dublin today. He was a poet whose work has been central to the development of my own poetic vision, and who enriched our world immensely through his work and his life. He was a man who loved the world with the most tender attention, finding the...
Today, all that shelters me descends with the sudden, clamorous weight of a collapsed safari tent. Tangled in its heavy canvas, its guy wires and flapping doorway, I struggle to my knees, scrape the palm of my hand against flinty ground, stagger upright in the ruins...
