Author Archives: lcpnationalpoetrymonth

Dennis Cooley, rob mclennan, Linda Crosfield, Heather Cadsby, Fern G.Z. Carr, Alice Major, Mary Angela Nangini, Carol Little, Carol Rose, Stevens Taeho Han, Susan McMaster, Carmelo Militano, Rebecca Leah Păpucaru, Gillian Harding-Russell, Kelly-Anne Riess, Joe Blades, Bruce Rice, Bernadette Wagner, … Continue reading →

Making Bread Pudding in Paris *** Sue Chenette grew up in northern Wisconsin and has made her home in Toronto since 1972. She is the author of Slender Human Weight, Guernica Editions, 2009. Her second full-length collection, The Bones of … Continue reading →

Mother and Son I remember when he held my hand, insisted on it, though no longer a baby or even a toddler. Regret the times I insisted he walk unfettered by my fingers, now that I miss those cheeks that … Continue reading →

*** Joining LCP in 2010, Richard McCullough is a featured international writer in http://www.ditchpoetry.ca and has published poetry in academic journals, literary magazines, and webzines in England, Canada and the U.S. The poet is currently pursuing an MSc in applied … Continue reading →

A year in: fireweed First thing. You are sturdy in your sundress your bare shoulders newel posts shiny from every cupped hand, every corner turned. A month into this heat wave we all want rain. Oh & ripe tomatoes & … Continue reading →

mending the pocket what is inside doesn’t show so I use brown thread on the grey lining not knowing where the grey is wanting to hold it all in so I use brown thread on the grey lining thinking about … Continue reading →

The Man with a Nosebleed Tilts his head back to keep life from pouring out. The body keeps its secrets mostly under wraps but occasionally reveals a rupture, a cough, a stumble, in spontaneity a coupling. Red, the most striking. … Continue reading →

#17. Push boat with flow of water if you want to mend a cloth to preserve it, you must send a thread through a tiny hole in a needle called an eye if you want to replicate the world to … Continue reading →

Jamilia Jamilia lives in Santa Clara With her mother, waits where touristas take pictures of the purple bouganvillea, the church’s yellow bell-tower for her father who brings tourists up from Varadero to visit the little towns, an old sugar plantation, … Continue reading →

Ill Beauty I am watching the little girl snipping milkweed leaves to feed the fat larvae she has brought indoors set in the deep prison of a brown box … she holds in her hand a clutch of green a … Continue reading →