of multiples. Every figure is unique,
and with uniqueness, gathers. It is
A song of wetlands, shores; unravels. Where
are you going, and where
you been? It will take more
than an anecdote, a pebble, scored forth
against a body, torn for clues.
ago: we walked, simultaneously, through
the commercial fields
world’s largest airports. Unaware, adrift, this
is the impossible detail
of multiple languages , of the entire text.
is this narrative? How worn?
is neither English. An unheard thing.
Then, from this material. To hear them speak it.
Remembering those weeks I nearly blind.
Remembering that time I wrote a poem.
at which we read the
fractals, summertime. Starry points.
A literal translation: our wee monsters advance
the hose, the wading pool, the sprinkler. The temporal similarity
bees. This gentle rustling
of maple; sparkled leaves, a reach of trees impossible
of the sentence. Target
an oriole or cackling jay.
the framework of metaphor.
can’t help but resemble, a consequence
of choice and form, to
interrupt my patters, speech.
The page is white but is not blank.
Four poems for Mouse Eggs
This hand-drawn air of musty typescript
on the actual page. Never trust a poem.
Artie and his beautiful chemical:
the Gold standard
of joyous, bittersweet. It is hard to live,
at times. Along Sainte-Catherine Street,
on the edge of the snow. I sometime think
I might chase
I’m afraid that I don’t
This lightning of the possible: mimeo,
hand-stapled. A source
of real words, craft
and inarticulate softscape.
A roar, of eggs. How many must you
Born in Ottawa, Canada’s glorious capital city, rob mclennan currently lives in Ottawa, where he is home full-time with the two wee girls he shares with Christine McNair. The author of more than thirty trade books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, he won the John Newlove Poetry Award in 2010, the Council for the Arts in Ottawa Mid-Career Award in 2014, and was longlisted for the CBC Poetry Prize in 2012 and 2017. In March, 2016, he was inducted into the VERSe Ottawa Hall of Honour. His most recent poetry titles include A halt, which is empty (Mansfield Press, 2019), Life sentence, (Spuyten Duyvil, 2019) and the book of smaller (University of Calgary Press, 2022). An editor and publisher, he runs above/ground press, periodicities: a journal of poetry and poetics and Touch the Donkey. He is editor of my (small press) writing day, and an editor/managing editor of many gendered mothers. In spring 2020, he won ‘best pandemic beard’ from Coach House Books via Twitter, of which he is extremely proud (and mentions constantly). He spent the 2007-8 academic year in Edmonton as writer-in-residence at the University of Alberta, and regularly posts reviews, essays, interviews and other notices at robmclennan.blogspot.com