Penguin Suicide

Werner Herzog tells me about penguins in the arctic,
one rushing to the mountain, away from the others, little being
driven by its own gales. Outside you are
in your favourite place, under the tree, asleep
or pretending to be. The sun stretches its flayed limbs
over your taut legs, your dandelion head.
I like to imagine you are on the other side of the window
—angry with me for rushing to work, for hiding in the toilet,
writing things you choose not to think. But it is this:
I need to see you weedy and sour, the window between us.
I need to see you sunspots and smile lines,
rings of ice in your blue eyes. I need to see us, alone
—both of us. It is how we learn to be together,
not facing each other at all.

Shazia Hafiz Ramji knows what is lost. 

Volume 8, Issue 3
September 25, 2015

Via Toronto

an Introduction

Paul Vermeersch

Penguin Suicide

Shazia Hafiz Ramji

beached poem

Shazia Hafiz Ramji

watched by the drone

Dani Couture

They Will Take My Island

Johanna Skibsrud

Maestro Bartolome Reconsiders his "Creation of Eve"

Johanna Skibsrud

Lacking the Wind's Higher Reasoning

Canisia Lubrin

Postcard from the volcano

Kilby Smith-McGregor

Taking off your glasses

Kilby Smith-McGregor

Feb 12, 2001 - Present

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7


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