Conceptual Poetry That’s when you pulled out the Sapphic quartet— reminisced bitterly on the subject of women who reverse their direction seasonally in response to root systems. ‘It’s fine’ is what you said, finally taking up the harp of your father ‘I can harvest emoticons for their personal value.’ Yet the whales drone on and pleasure amends history. You’ll learn—functioning badly in a large dream is an even larger version of time travel, a marvelous application. Slower than oceans, less firm than nouns, deep in whose depths great mammals display the sonorous we-shall-inherit-the- earth melodies that deny you wait. One day you’ll feel the holes. Tropes Left By Forebearers No one snuffs the world out but your eyes Or calls the objects they see slight— Somewhere under a sky that has been broken By knowledge and understanding There is a pattern brewing in the …
It’s a wet, cold Saturday in Toronto, but we’re curling up with these three poems from Jay MillAr to keep us warm.