I say I love being close to you with a story about a poet’s green thumb. You breathe in the leaves and feel your fingers furl/unfurl the edges of a book I’ve put in your lap, a long line of words rigged to make some sense of wonder, the pages laid out like a clearing, woodland bound and tilled, contained by the niches and corners of a garden the words will take you to, grandiloquent perhaps and vast as I remember poetry in a landscape that once moved me, its…
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The wind brings cool air and swirling leaves falling gracefully to the ground, covering the lake with brocade flourishes, painting the sky with bursts of flaming colours as the leaves fall from the trees, delicately finding places to land leaving skeletal trees with no cover for the wicked winter to come. Frances Garofalo was the winner of the 2022 Venera Fazio poetry contest. She lives in Thunder Bay.
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“When we undertake the pilgrimage, it's not just to escape the tyranny at home but also to reach to the…
Clara and Cosimo finally reached Via Plebiscito number 80, the intersecting street name Via Daniele written in cobalt blue on…
A Collage of Impressions, curated by George Elliott Clarke Among Toronto’s cold, glistening skyscrapers, Corrado Paina (1954-2024) was a transplanted…
SAPLING Sunday mornings, Mom attends mass at St. Ambrose Church while Dad takes me to High Park where I play…
“Since the house is on fire, let us warm ourselves.” (Italian proverb) Monday, 9 a.m. Not writing. Dim, dreary…
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