Tuesday, 22 May 2012

Poetry in Motion 2012

News from The London Arts Council & London's Poet Laureate: The poets for the 2012 Poetry in Motion project have been selected and poems from the following contributors will be featured on city buses here in London, Ontario: Gloria Alvernaz Mulcahy, Lindsey Bannister, Frank Beltrano,
Patricia Black, Carrie Connel, Susan Downe, Tom Cull, Debra Franke, Andreas Gripp, Gaetan LaBelle, Tom Legge, Ola Nowosad, Rob Paynter, R L Raymond, Colleen Thibaudeau, & Deborah Windell.

Curator of the project and Poet Laureate Penn Kemp said, in judging poems for Poetry in Motion, "I was delighted by both the quality and quantity of the submissions, and by their variety. Congratulations to all. The poems chosen are the ones I think to be the most appropriate for LTC. So many are actual bus poems!" Penn was also invited to include one of her poems for Poetry in Motion. This is the second consecutive year that Penn and the LAC have undertaken this initiative.

Each poem will have three display cards within London Transit Commission buses from June 2012-13. The anthology of poems will also be posted on www.londonarts.ca.


Below is my contribution to this project, a re-visiting of an old love poem ...

Unsinkable, at the Centennial

If my love cannot sink
in your sea of splintered floe,
then history does not repeat itself:

for this Titanic won’t be breached,
nor torn and split in two,
and the jagged white ahead   
is merely a piece of floating ice
no match for Her Majesty’s
finest vessel.

Andreas Gripp

Monday, 21 May 2012

Salamander Cove: New Issue

Salamander Cove May 2012 Issue

The new issue of Salamander Cove, put together by Annie Wyndham, is available for reading. Featuring poems by Patrick Lane, April Bulmer, and seven other poets (including myself). Also presenting some fine photos and artwork by a variety of artists. Give it a read if you'd like ...

Saturday, 12 May 2012

Hamilton poet's upcoming book launch

Conrad DiDiodato, whose spontaneous, masterful, surreal, cerebral, exploding-with-images work has led him to be called "The Picasso of Poets" (Katherine L. Gordon), is launching his much-awaited collection of poems, Bridget Bird, at Puddicombe Estate: Farms & Winery located in Winona, Ontario at 1468 Hwy #8, on Sunday, June 17th, 2012, at 1:00pm. The book is published by Serengeti Press. This will be an opportunity to hear poetry as you haven't heard it presented before ...

Thursday, 10 May 2012

London Poet and Dentist Dies in Crash

London dentist (and poet) Chris Guiltinan died this morning (May 10th, 2012) when his car rolled over in a ditch off the 403 near Hamilton. He was married and the father of two sons and opened the Guiltinan Family Dentistry Clinic in 2007 [source: London Community News].

In 1998, while editor and publisher of Afterthoughts, a London-based poetry journal, I had the privilege of publishing a few of Chris’ poems, all the while wishing I’d see more of his work in the future. I imagine his professional and family life took up much of his time and so the poet part of his life never came to full fruition (at least as far as I know) – a taste of which you can read in the three poems below. His work was skillfully written and extremely impressive. These poems are taken from issues 13 & 14, which also featured, in either or both issues, poets and writers such as Ian Ayres, Beryl Baigent, Michael Bogue, Jason Dickson, Vic Elias, Katherine L. Gordon, John Grey, Gregory Wm. Gunn, Claire Litton, Stan Rogal, Kenneth Salzmann, K.V. Skene, Fredrick Zydek, K.A. Corlett, Louis Gallo, Susan McCaslin, Molly Peacock, and Al Purdy.

Skating on Summer’s Egg
by Chris Guiltinan

Though Winter spread south like spilled milk
(I still think
the snowflake Is more work
in terms of intricacy, in terms of sheer
Spring smoked the landscape like a cigarette
and Summer came
in with its changeable light.
If habit is the body’s vanity over and over,
then who is to say
which thing weighs most:
a leather jacket or the knife it conceals;
jewellery or starlight;
the moon or the blue wick it burns on?
You say the blade might be Yevtushenko.
I believe you.
But who is the Chinese kite, dear lady,
beneath which we make love?

On Spring Nights
by Chris Guiltinan

On Spring nights, hyacinths
stuff the dark air,
men think
black must be blue that went too far,
women know
and sit quietly wishing
the perfume meant something,
the bruised light meant something,
anything at all.

by Chris Guiltinan

Numbers are the crudest form of abundance,
The fingers and toes of keeping track.
When does enough
tip into too much,
want into need,
Heaven become mere happiness, carved
down from ecstasy, smaller
but less conditional?

Preserved in amber
the town I grew up in,
and the blood and the voice of a lifetime
the light; word finds its laser and enters
to be holy,
to bear witness,
to be the pencil
of your next move.