Even with my long term connections, no one ever called / me babe, hun, or worse, dear. Sometimes they’d say Tony. / Other times they just started talking and I knew the words / were meant for me…
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Even with my long term connections, no one ever called / me babe, hun, or worse, dear. Sometimes they’d say Tony. / Other times they just started talking and I knew the words / were meant for me…
Even with my long term connections, no one ever called / me babe, hun, or worse, dear. Sometimes they’d say Tony. / Other times they just started talking and I knew the words / were meant for me…
The flat, diaphanous mountain seemed to have formed / the way an image takes shape in a poet’s mind, / and the moon rode its shoulder like a cat…
Poetry, fiction, reviews, and interviews, rolled out daily over the month of May, and possibly a bit of June. Check back daily to see what’s new.
Even with my long term connections, no one ever called / me babe, hun, or worse, dear. Sometimes they’d say Tony. / Other times they just started talking and I knew the words / were meant for me…
The flat, diaphanous mountain seemed to have formed / the way an image takes shape in a poet’s mind, / and the moon rode its shoulder like a cat…
Together we lower her. / Her head flops in first, like a turn in sleep; / we arrange the paws under and wordlessly / scatter dirt. I reach for a spade.
Even with my long term connections, no one ever called / me babe, hun, or worse, dear. Sometimes they’d say Tony. / Other times they just started talking
The flat, diaphanous mountain seemed to have formed / the way an image takes shape in a poet’s mind, / and the moon rode its
Together we lower her. / Her head flops in first, like a turn in sleep; / we arrange the paws under and wordlessly / scatter
I listened all morning to the raven’s knock / though that is a lie. / I listened for maybe two minutes. / Maybe one.
She’s given to me, the dragonfly, / a quiet comma in the air, she hovers / as the grasslight blows into her eyes, / still
“The world is wide, and short on time”
He wanted to forget her now. She had tortured him for years, seducing him with her odour and she often stank. He liked to kiss
The peddler could hardly see the path in front of him, and cursed himself for failing to buy new oil for his lantern. Twice he
No one knows how much the silverware drawer matters. It rattles in Leah’s mind if it’s left unorganized. She checks it often.
He didn’t recognize me, or else pretended not to see me. A neighbour who doesn’t say hello. I’m a neighbour who is see-through, perhaps completely invisible, not
My sister bought me a “Sucka Free” hoodie in the ‘80s when Yo! MTV Raps was hot. I wore that shirt till the hole under
Geoffrey pulls his hand from his pocket and withdraws the four-inch handle of a switchblade knife. Jason’s face turns ghostly. The American yells and runs
B O D Y’s art editor Jessica Mensch meets up with Montreal-based artists Sarah Wendt & Pascal Dufaux at their Montréal studio to talk about their recent solo show, Miel du temps, at Musée d’art de Joliette, in Joliette, Quebec.
B O D Y interviews Scott Kiernan, a New York-based artist whose video, photo and installation works interact in ways that address their own materiality and means of distribution.
Anna Hawkins is an artist who works primarily in moving image and installation with an interest in the ways that images, gestures and language are circulated and transformed online and the impacts of technology on the intimate spheres of daily life.
Weaving together disparate references spanning across histories and geographies, German interdisciplinary artist Johanna Strobel explores the entanglement between philosophy, semiotics, and actuality.
Padma Rajendran’s works on fabric experiment with the clash and combination of patterning and storytelling. She received her MFA from Rhode Island School of Design and teaches drawing at Vassar College.
Mi’kmaq/L’nu artist and author Michelle Sylliboy was born in Boston, Massachusetts, and raised on her traditional L’nuk territory in We’koqmaq, Cape Breton. Her published collection of photographs and L’nuk hieroglyphic poetry, Kiskajeyi—I Am Ready, won the 2020 Indigenous Voices Award. Jessica Mensch interviewed her this summer at her home.
Poet and translator Tom Phillips offers a guide to contemporary Bulgarian poetry in translation
Drew Rollins and James Peake review four new books of contemporary Bulgarian poetry in translation. Edited by Clint Margrave.
B O D Y reviews new pamphlets by David Kinloch, James Appleby, and Sophie Cooke.
Stephan Delbos on the poetry of Tim Dlugos and Danzez Smith, two poets whose poetry clarifies the evolving relationship between American society & AIDS and shows how poetry can follow truth through taboo.
Hostovsky’s fondness for words and keen ear for spoken language benefit his writing: he can record and create dialogue in a brilliant and natural way. In this respect, he has more in common with short-story writers than with most contemporary poets, who tend to avoid direct speech.
W. H. Auden once said that poets should dress like businessmen. Thom Gunn preferred leather and chains.
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