Where are you now?
Toronto, Scarborough, in my room, by the
piano.
What are you reading?
I just finished
reading War of the Foxes by Richard
Siken, a poet who gives me the analogue of a painter rather than imperatives of
what lifespans of words can notate. I recently revisited Night Sky With Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong- which has been savored a
dozen times already. The work of Kiyoko Nagase, also interests me. Her poem Burning a Light at Night, I find myself
constantly returning to.
What have you discovered lately?
Paintings of
Florine Stettheimer at the AGO
The best hot
chocolate stand at Distillery District
Mango Saké
Where do you write?
Writing in cafes is
where I usually enjoy finding myself, simply due to the mosaic presence of people
and the natural white noise it provides in the backdrop. Now days, I often
write on my phone while doing my daily night train commute across Toronto-
usually standing. During summer, Bamburgh Park is where solace and routine
finds me. I’d say writing comes to me anywhere with a sense of lilt and
cadence. I can also say that I love writing in supermarkets. Anywhere urban,
familiar, and fresh. Another part of me is convinced writing can be enjoyed
anywhere so long a sense of passionate urgency arrives; and the field is open
for attention.
What are you working on?
I have this vague idea of a new poetic
form I’ve been having visions about in my sleep. Timbres of what fashions
memory and the repetition of trauma in the mundanity of metered line breaks-
visual signatures in relation to canvas. A freedom within the manmade metronome
perhaps? For the time being, at least.
Have you anything forthcoming?
My full-length
collection of poems Structures from the
Still, will be forthcoming from Akinoga Press in 2018. I also have a
chapbook coming out titled Comfort of
Malice.
What would you rather be doing?
I don’t know.
A DAY
WITH THE NIGHT
I told stories to myself cranium after
silence
When I speak talk from pillows punctured by
dreams whenglory are piles high that come crashing down
that soothe my calmness
If you let go of sleeping,
glory are the eternal days that layer
and minister a way of longing
probing the air and rest
If you stretch out a measure
with every indication of day break coming
Things like sweethearts and faith
like afternoon legend,
like dove treatise
If finitude
my nostalgia like take it or leave it,
things like fractions that elapse
and leave fractions nomad
and collapsing
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