Category Archives: Poetry

Clusters of a Single Species

Posted on October 8, 2011 by Francois Lachance

I have begun reading the work of American poet Philip Levine. This little bit from “Winter Words” collected in A Walk with Tom Jefferson is delightful in its exactitude and its animation: Birthday tulips, twelve hothouse flowers of royal purple … Continue reading →

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After All the Reading

Posted on October 7, 2011 by Francois Lachance

Monad deme, in tectology, a unit of the first order of individuality. Monad is an anagram of nomad. Deme is a half-rhyme for dame. Tectology: a branch of morphology that regards an organism as made up of other organisms. Technical … Continue reading →

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Targetless Rock Throwing

Posted on October 6, 2011 by Francois Lachance

Ken Babstock. “Industry” in Methodist Hatchet. Last line: What is one voice but a resource? A question answered by an earlier poet: maybe even stones have discourse Robert Kroetsch. The Sad Phoenician. Section M but it was she who resisted; … Continue reading →

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Suspended in Translation; Translated in Suspension

Posted on October 4, 2011 by Francois Lachance

She leaves it untranslated. une langue qui abandonne son nid ne goute plus aux oiseaux There is a bit of trickiness in capturing the ambiguity of tasting like a bird but there it is — the language tastes of bird … Continue reading →

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Letters Like Dropping Rain

Posted on October 3, 2011 by Francois Lachance

Untitled poem of three lines (when reconstituted) to be found at the end of “The Silent Poet Sequence” at the end of the The Sad Phoenician but not at the end of “The Silent Poet Sequence” found in Completed Field … Continue reading →

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Blurb Encounters

Posted on October 1, 2011 by Francois Lachance

On the back of the chapbook and framed by a double line rectangle are the following words Starting with the premise “There are two kinds of people,” Susan Holbrook drives supermarket existentialism through its own vortex and gives it a … Continue reading →

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Soup of the Hour

Posted on September 30, 2011 by Francois Lachance

Ken Babstock Methodist Hatchet “The Decor” honked at. Is this about style? I remember being          warned ontology was ugly by a poet who then ordered the chowder. Grass          tells a story of listening It could have been: bouillabaisse vichyssoise gazpacho … Continue reading →

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Anagram Margana

Posted on September 27, 2011 by Francois Lachance

Susan Holbrook in the notes to Throaty Wipes helpfully points out that the lines in “What is Poetry” are anagrams of the title. The collection bears as its title one of these lines. I like the associations that arise from … Continue reading →

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Red Piling on Blue

Posted on September 25, 2011 by Francois Lachance

In her Notes on the Poems, Susan Holbrook provides a variant to the “blurred” section in “Poems for Andy Goldsworthy” in Throaty Wipes. Interesting that in my attempt at deciphering the blur, I gather “red drop” as the topmost layer … Continue reading →

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Sometimes a Great Formalist

Posted on September 25, 2011 by Francois Lachance

Susan Holbrook produces new tricks using “what” to punctuate some old saws. […] your head what is not heat more than you can chew what is kept above water a rose garden what is bitten off an old dog what … Continue reading →

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