Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Tuesday poem #365 : Jami Macarty : The Daughter

Rather than a church prison with nun guards, a military prison held me. I tied my soldier’s clothes tightly round my body with dozens of cords to protect myself. There is no record of what they did to me. But, are such records kept. Frustrated that I could not be broken, the tribunal used my clothes against me. The military clothes I wore to lead the French army to victory over England at OrlĂ©ans. Those clothes were the basis of the charge that I dressed like a man. What is it to be dressed like a man. Were my captors dressed thusly or were they dressed as rapists. Executioners. The English, their French collaborators, the Burgundians took me to the marketplace in Rouen and burned me at the stake before a crowd estimated at 10,000. I was 19 years old. Some 30 years later, the people of France declare me innocent of all charges. Designate me a martyr. 500 years later, they canonize me. My heart survived the fire unaffected. I am no one’s saint, but my father Jacques’ and my mother Isabelle’s steadfast daughter.

Jami Macarty is the author of the full-length poetry collection The Minuses (February 2020) in The Mountain/West Poetry Series, published by The Center for Literary Publishing at Colorado State University, and three chapbooks of poetry: Instinctive Acts (Nomados Literary Publishers, 2018), Mind of Spring (Vallum Chapbook Series, 2017), winner of the 2017 Vallum Chapbook Award, and Landscape of The Wait (Finishing Line Press, 2017). She teaches poetry and poetics at Simon Fraser University, mentors writers privately, and edits the online poetry journal The Maynard.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Tuesday poem #364 : Geoffrey Olsen : Marrow Insight

marrow insight. leaf. rose. animal pens. men brushing fingers under white wings. barrenless. care of beings. gridless. under. heavy liquid.  Fleeting liquid. raptors. broad parts are cupped. anticalamity. forgetting. sounds other birds make as music. infinite pulse made obvious. framing wound lick. Muhal Richard Abrams. soft child looking out. improvising play cloud scintillates angerless aspect. directionless. ends torment. peace of. of space. of limb. on instant. startling. the calf eye.

Geoffrey Olsen is a poet living and working in Brooklyn, NY. He is the author of two chapbooks. Recent work has appeared in Prelude and Vestiges.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Tuesday poem #363 : Catherine Graham : Moths

In the light hours they burrow.
Walls accept, cracks and

inner crevices welcome.
Something borrowed from another blue, 

wind-remnants, a miniature world
tucked in wings, known by rote

from all in flight before them.
Crepe-powder, talc, pollen.

When they succumb to open
they make the house fly.

Catherine Graham is a Toronto-based writer. Among her six poetry collections The Celery Forest was named a CBC Best Book of the Year and appears on their Ultimate Canadian Poetry List. Michael Longley praised it as “a work of great fortitude and invention, full of jewel-like moments and dark gnomic utterance.” Her Red Hair Rises with the Wings of Insects was a finalist for the Raymond Souster Award and CAA Award for Poetry and her debut novel Quarry won an Independent Publisher Book Awards gold medal for fiction, “The Very Best!” Book Awards for Best Fiction and was a finalist for the Fred Kerner Book Award and the Sarton Women’s Book Award for Contemporary Fiction. She received an Excellence in Teaching Award at the University of Toronto School of Continuing Studies and was also winner of the Toronto International Festival of Authors Poetry NOW. Her work is anthologized internationally and she has appeared on CBC Radio One’s The Next Chapter with Shelagh Rogers. Visit her at www.catherinegraham.com. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @catgrahampoet

The Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan