tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-131739322024-03-19T06:01:30.597-04:00BloggamoogaA spotty record of a writer.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger768125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-1420790586175620652024-01-26T18:58:00.006-05:002024-01-26T22:42:19.847-05:00AISP, the poem (by request)<p><i> Back in May of 2010, I attended a reunion of students from my Toronto high school, AISP — the Alternative Independent Study Program. I don't know how I would have survived the school system without that place.</i></p><p><i>Someone on social media this week asked to see the poem again, so here it is. </i></p><p><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></p><p><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-US">AISP</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Did I ever tell you about this school<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">a school made up entirely of initials:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Apples In Silver Purses<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Astronauts Integrating Small Pandas<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Ask In Sequence Please<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Agatha Ivanov Speaks Portguese<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">It was a free school<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">and we were free<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to create our own learning<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to call our teachers by their first names<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to hang a parachute from the ceiling of the Common Room<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">(until a fire marshal told us otherwise)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">We were free to rebel<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to make super 8 films<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to scream sound poems in the hallways<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to make Xerox art in Dorothy’s office<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to make comic books instead of essays<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">comics books about global domination by Venus fly traps<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">We were free to invent our own courses<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">skip classes walk out of classes sit in on classes<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">that we weren’t even taking<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">free to take the side of Mao Tse-Tung<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Did I ever tell you about the initials?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Actively Irrigate Subtle Plantations<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Anything Irritates Shirley’s Piano<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Abe’s Integers Smoke Pot<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Angels Illuminate Soryl’s Pecadillos<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">We were free to get beat up less than<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">at Jeffreys, MacKenzie, Fleming<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to read any goddamn book we wanted to<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">I mean truly weird shit<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to take three courses a year, or fifteen<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">and write revolutionary communiqués<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">to hang a parachute from the Common Room ceiling<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">I’m serious<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">because it meant we were alternative<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">and we were independent<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">sometimes we studied<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">and we were never programmed<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">we ate French fries at Dairy Freeze<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">fried liver and onions in the cafeteria<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Carl ate cookies in his office<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">and then he brushed his teeth<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">thus providing a lesson<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Have I mentioned the initials?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Always Investigate Snoopy Parents<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Armadillos Invest Snappy Premiums<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Africa Israel Switzerland Poland<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Asia Istanbul Spain Peru<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">On torn sofas<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">in the Common Room<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">we argued sports and politics<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">under an actual parachute<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">that hung from the ceiling<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">a ceiling<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">a parachute<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">a fire marshal<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">We were free from beating each other up<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">free from conveyor belts<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">sausage education<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">particle board learning<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">We were free from <i>Catcher in the Rye</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">if we wanted to be<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">free to take a class with a teacher<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">who’d fold our poems into paper airplanes<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">and fly them across the room<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">plus we had a parachute<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">a Common Room<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">a ceiling<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">initials<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">have I told you about the parachute?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>27 May 2010<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><i>Stuart Ross</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US">Over and out.</span></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-52323648067094942872024-01-26T18:51:00.012-05:002024-01-26T18:55:09.862-05:00Did I mention that last year I won the Trillium Book Award?<p>I haven't been keeping up with things on this blog. Blogs being an almost-thing-of-the-past. But it's worth documenting that in June 2023, I won the Trillium Book Award for my memoir, <i>The Book of Grief and Hamburgers</i>, published in 2022 by ECW Press.</p><p>Back in 2000, I was shortlisted for the award for my second poetry collection, <i>Farmer Gloomy's New Hybrid</i>. I didn't expect to win then, and I didn't, and I didn't expect to win this time. I figured they just put me on the shortlist when they needed a book with a stupid title.</p><p>But <i>The Book of Grief and Hamburgers</i> is a very important book to me. It was painful but cathartic to write. I wrote it for myself, and for my dear friend Michael Dennis, the Ottawa poet, who didn't have long to live in fall 2020. I didn't intend to show it to Michael, but I did show him the dedication, which is to him. With an epigraph by him: "We are the lucky men." He said that to me in the last month of his life.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPgeSKGIc4PTcbu7HYa2tFJ1CiJ4-gDW_tCVmxGBMl2NYWzKT9PiZ_LoEBb-BQduiNZiBlzYKsBzLmUtu286pIsNz9Lxk7goOp6utMSFdng15ZAdsWAwCDF6NrWAlR8e9x36uYYVa4994lA1PHie9LyI3zT9cIpzQ1rZa5S7yWecuv6hQvoXoQA/s3000/StuartAcceptingTrilliumWithMichael.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPgeSKGIc4PTcbu7HYa2tFJ1CiJ4-gDW_tCVmxGBMl2NYWzKT9PiZ_LoEBb-BQduiNZiBlzYKsBzLmUtu286pIsNz9Lxk7goOp6utMSFdng15ZAdsWAwCDF6NrWAlR8e9x36uYYVa4994lA1PHie9LyI3zT9cIpzQ1rZa5S7yWecuv6hQvoXoQA/s320/StuartAcceptingTrilliumWithMichael.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Here I am giving my acceptance speech. My editor at ECW and friend Michael Holmes is holding my award. Man, he and ECW have stuck with me through seven books and I am so grateful.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfahXqGWbwBeXKYKfZfKOVvMPAMfXv84OTVL21vTwgO3g__Mgu9H_4TaXrKyswpA7O9CMlfqhQNZa0i49a7dNJtH0dCPkuGXFrD-geixyUJ_-fY8cmF88rmgxMyGz0MVndYarnjYxtgySxM33nNAbUeqreY8hADgwDTRkEU3H7LshK1s_Zl9I8Vg/s4798/TrilliumPosterSigning.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3995" data-original-width="4798" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfahXqGWbwBeXKYKfZfKOVvMPAMfXv84OTVL21vTwgO3g__Mgu9H_4TaXrKyswpA7O9CMlfqhQNZa0i49a7dNJtH0dCPkuGXFrD-geixyUJ_-fY8cmF88rmgxMyGz0MVndYarnjYxtgySxM33nNAbUeqreY8hADgwDTRkEU3H7LshK1s_Zl9I8Vg/s320/TrilliumPosterSigning.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>And here I'm signing the placard for my book on the big night.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRw7tdwv1n3314dHQSjM7_zpGsWk2tRgn98e9BpYRfSbxa4RXblBSQ-szpcba2sOXCVJb6WCXIhfT-qdTA1mKwv1YIJ3ay_ivSM0msqTf6uvk3_4HTcJuID_L96ZCu658IWnBwCmrdhCgCbHeuNmC69MLT_MWKclv5j28-DlklRYd9rjbOFcgBA/s1000/TrilliumWinMoment%5B53229%5D.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRw7tdwv1n3314dHQSjM7_zpGsWk2tRgn98e9BpYRfSbxa4RXblBSQ-szpcba2sOXCVJb6WCXIhfT-qdTA1mKwv1YIJ3ay_ivSM0msqTf6uvk3_4HTcJuID_L96ZCu658IWnBwCmrdhCgCbHeuNmC69MLT_MWKclv5j28-DlklRYd9rjbOFcgBA/s320/TrilliumWinMoment%5B53229%5D.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Oh yeah. This is the moment when my name was announced as the winner. As you can see, I really didn't see it coming. Paul Vermeersch caught my expression in this photo.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2olMOLoOymUFRtB8nrpu5TXrwdAW-ZwTvxE25OAiijcNGtuCvkjQ88_tiUTnuEKk0rVFqaA1I-RHfnTzGMkyOpiZ5Pit6XZAN9y1cC2rg4xPfIT9DYyKVxuzEVPv7JGeiKvCU_q_elgyS_RBz0-tXUvvfncTL-CbSc49iphAOo6-4p_yq8A8HCw/s2016/CobourgMayorLetterTrillium.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2olMOLoOymUFRtB8nrpu5TXrwdAW-ZwTvxE25OAiijcNGtuCvkjQ88_tiUTnuEKk0rVFqaA1I-RHfnTzGMkyOpiZ5Pit6XZAN9y1cC2rg4xPfIT9DYyKVxuzEVPv7JGeiKvCU_q_elgyS_RBz0-tXUvvfncTL-CbSc49iphAOo6-4p_yq8A8HCw/s320/CobourgMayorLetterTrillium.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Here's a letter the mayor of Cobourg addressed to me to mark an evening in my honour at the Art Gallery of Northumberland. It was a pretty lovely occasion, organized jointly by the gallery and our local indie, Let's Talk Books. The brilliant Katie Cruel was my musician of choice for the night. And I was introduced, really beautifully, by Cobourger, writer, and former MPP David Tsubouchi, who has always been a great champion of the written word.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICQJQ3M_6rCU6eapQGJneJjAQJHlDKVGMDe2saElGevZ8vho3jm7TM_iIpg7IkGSQvZXRR_3lmoYq8lRnMmFCDfr1Hlvoy7AHWyQWfxd_ct77lbWt8wqstAhf7TiGDItrZFCTFQxY6xjt-IUZVcye02E-IiQTAdpLnmGu4JDANuQxrRWw_XnB2g/s1150/BookofGriefHamburgersCOVER.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="765" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICQJQ3M_6rCU6eapQGJneJjAQJHlDKVGMDe2saElGevZ8vho3jm7TM_iIpg7IkGSQvZXRR_3lmoYq8lRnMmFCDfr1Hlvoy7AHWyQWfxd_ct77lbWt8wqstAhf7TiGDItrZFCTFQxY6xjt-IUZVcye02E-IiQTAdpLnmGu4JDANuQxrRWw_XnB2g/s320/BookofGriefHamburgersCOVER.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p>And here is my winning book. This gorgeous cover was created by my friend the London, Ontario, artist Angie Quick.</p><p>No book of mine has brought me as much response (or money!) as <i>The Book of Grief and Hamburgers</i>. As I said, I wrote it in part for Michael Dennis, but it was a tribute to all the important people in my life who have died. And one important dog.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-GxkoKQ_FFUKoO7mZZ-JrNOyGKph0QKlQGIdWIv3bCszcLQAAa93PYtY9rNKFvdsEz3zM938cQgJKHnbuZ6OxMoXuXZHL1NvdHNuloisyTtn05sdYTNpRCYjppczz-xV9JZHXnsrSFimYyhSPtcdKReP92RiZ08cVhi75Rg4NccBiX4Yxndt1A/s1080/LilyDarling.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1080" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-GxkoKQ_FFUKoO7mZZ-JrNOyGKph0QKlQGIdWIv3bCszcLQAAa93PYtY9rNKFvdsEz3zM938cQgJKHnbuZ6OxMoXuXZHL1NvdHNuloisyTtn05sdYTNpRCYjppczz-xV9JZHXnsrSFimYyhSPtcdKReP92RiZ08cVhi75Rg4NccBiX4Yxndt1A/s320/LilyDarling.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Miss you, Lily.</p><p>Over and out.</p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-27313505420492494262024-01-01T17:45:00.000-05:002024-01-01T17:45:11.658-05:00My 2024 New Year's Poem<b>
SEVEN SLEEPS FOR A NEW YEAR</b><div><br /></div><div>i.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I wake</div><div>It will be the first day</div><div>Of something new </div><div>That tiptoes along a telephone wire</div><div>Catching fragments</div><div>Of conversation</div><div>And writing them down</div><div><br /></div><div>ii.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was snoring</div><div>My leg was in a weird position</div><div>It remembered a joke</div><div>About a calf who mooed</div><div>But it was a leg calf</div><div><br /></div><div>iii.</div><div><br /></div><div>My teeth were grinding</div><div>My enemies</div><div>Into something</div><div>I could live with</div><div><br /></div><div>iv.</div><div><br /></div><div>The brownshirts chase me</div><div>Up the stairs</div><div>Soon I have</div><div>No more floors to escape to</div><div>I shove open my eyes</div><div>Reach over to the night table</div><div>Sip some water</div><div>The brownshirts screech to a halt</div><div>They mutter</div><div>Scratch their heads</div><div>(One head per brownshirt)</div><div><br /></div><div>v.</div><div><br /></div><div>I yawn while sleeping</div><div>My stomach growls while I eat </div><div> I write a poem while someone reads one of my poems</div><div><br /></div><div>vi.</div><div><br /></div><div>The digital clock</div><div>Beside the glass of water</div><div>On my night table</div><div>Throws a red 3:26</div><div>Across my still face</div><div>The spider dangling</div><div>Above my head</div><div>Double-checks its watches</div><div><br /></div><div>vii.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was sleeping</div><div>I was not a hummingbird</div><div>I was not a can opener </div><div>I was not a wisp of campfire smoke</div><div>My head lay on a pillow</div><div>And a dream snuck out of my skull</div><div>Curled itself into a ball</div><div>Went bouncing off the walls</div><div>And out the window</div><div>Into the dark sky </div><div>Into the cold night</div><div>Into the broken world</div><div>Where it fixed everything</div><div><br /></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Stuart Ross</i></div><div><i>1 January 2024</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Over and out.</div>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-7920793017207063752023-10-27T23:05:00.002-04:002023-10-27T23:05:25.572-04:00New York, here I comeThis has been one of the busiest years of my writing life. And I haven't blogged since January 1.
Maybe I'll catch up a bit. Maybe not.
But I am going to New York, at the invitation of Charles North, one of my favourite poets, and I figured that was worth posting about. I'll be reading at Pace University with the poet RK Fauth, whose work seems pretty brilliant. So exciting to go back to New York…
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Over and also out.Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-79891728520493248182023-01-01T18:56:00.006-05:002023-01-01T18:56:59.527-05:00MY 2023 NEW YEAR'S POEM<b>POEM FOR SUNDAY (JANUARY 1, 2023)<br>
</b><br>
On the first day, I woke<br>
in the dark. The wind howled<br>
like Allen Ginsberg, rattling<br>
my windows and my eyeballs.<br>
I invented the electric light<br>
and turned it on. Another me<br>
appeared on the floor,<br>
like a crime-scene outline<br>
drawn in black chalk and<br>
filled with dark. I introduced<br>
myself and invited him <br>
for dinner. He had never tried<br>
Chinese food, so that’s what<br>
we ordered. My doorbell rang.<br>
Bags appeared. We arranged<br>
the cartons on the table.<br>
My shadow said so much<br>
depends on the egg rolls<br>
drizzled in plum sauce<br>
beside the orange chicken.<br>
I thwacked him on the head<br>
but my hand went right<br>
through him. This is a poem<br>
about tragedy. I’ll start again.<br>
I dreamed I was visiting<br>
Opal and Ellen Nations,<br>
and we ordered Chinese food. Because<br>
it was New Year’s Day, the food<br>
took so long to arrive that<br>
Opal kept eating slices of bread<br>
with Cheez Whiz while Ellen<br>
showed me the linoleum tiles<br>
she’d chosen for the kitchen floor.<br>
Nothing is more interesting<br>
than when someone shares<br>
their dream with you. Suddenly,<br>
a shard of sun slips between<br>
the curtains and enters my eyeballs.<br>
I inflate. I drift out the window<br>
and into the morning-lit sky.<br>
It’s all so beauti— I deflate<br>
and plummet to the ground.<br>
A pebble is lodged in my shoe.<br>
The breeze ruffles my thinning <br>
hair. The shadow of my hand<br>
caresses my unshaven cheek.<br>
We people on the pavement<br>
looked at me. Everything<br>
I’ve told you here<br>
is remarkable. A burst of <br>
the present plunges into<br>
your outstretched arms.<br>
<br>
<br>
<i>Stuart Ross<br>
1 January 2023</i>
<br><br>
Over and out.
Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-69228819084062099182022-07-05T15:42:00.000-04:002022-07-05T15:42:09.668-04:00Kenn Enns of Shelf Life Books interviews meIn May, my dear friend Kenn Enns, who works for Shelf Life Books in Calgary, interviewed me online about <i>The Book of Grief and Hamburgers</i>. I consider this event my official book launch. It was a great conversation, great to talk so openly about the book. Kenn is insightful and empathetic, and they are also my music whisperer, leading me to a ton of great contemporary bands, like Japanese Breakfast and Slothrust and Hurray For The Riff Raff.
<br><br><iframe class="BLOG_video_class" allowfullscreen="" youtube-src-id="a5ARZGiAOnA" width="320" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/a5ARZGiAOnA"></iframe><br><br>
Over and out.Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-12768683049264101152022-06-10T18:02:00.004-04:002022-10-10T17:45:27.272-04:00Sun Cows of the Petrichor<p>In winter 2021, I had the great privilege of being writer-in-residence for the University of Ottawa's English Department. I wish I could have lived in Ottawa for those four months — that had been my hope — but the Covid wrench insinuated itself into the process and I led my classes from my office basement, surrounded by bookshelves handmade by Nelson Ball and sitting on Barbara Caruso's chair, with a tapestry by Barbara hanging across from my "desk."<p>
<p>Anyway, the school gave me the opportunity to teach the fourth-year writing workshop. I was told I could teach anything I wanted. Both to be unpredictable and because I thought it was more necessary, I created a course called Blowing Up Fiction, devoted to experimental and innovative fiction. The twelve students who enrolled had not previously written experimental fiction, I discovered. But this was the only fourth-year creative writing course offered, so they took it.<p>
<p>The students turned out to be supremely talented writers, and though some might have been a bit reluctant at first, they met the challenge of writing in all the crazy ways I suggested, and they read works by David Markson, Daphne Marlatt, B. S. Johnson, Lydia Davis, Percival Everett, bpNichol, MAC Farrant, Renee Gladman, Raymond Federman, and lots more. They hated some of it, and some of it they loved.<p>
<p>Toward the end of the semester, I came up with the idea of putting together a full-length anthology of experimental fiction by these young writers. (Well, eleven young writers and one old guy like me.) I would publish it through Proper Tales Press. I brought the Russian artist and writer Jenya Stashkov aboard to do the cover graphic. I told them I'd have the book out by June 2021. It would be called <i>Sun Cows of the Petrichor</i>.<p>
<p>But Covid really slowed me down. Until this past spring. And now, at last, the book is out, with very exciting work by Emily Bertrand, Ciku Gitonga, Andrea Guzman, Vera Hadzic, Baylie Karperian, Jonathan Kipling, Jack Lahey, Vivian Li, Angelica Malpica, Lila Ndinsil, Sabrina Papandrea, and David Paré. I was worried that one or two of them would get cold feet during the yearlong delay, but they're a brave bunch!<p>
<p>Is it a book by student writers? Nope, it's a book by writers, most of them being published for their first time.<p>
<p>I'm very proud of this project.<p>
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<p>Over and out.<p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-22642323804931802872022-06-09T11:47:00.000-04:002022-06-09T11:47:01.690-04:00OWIF — in conversation with Stephen Brockwell about The Book of Grief and HamburgersMy favourite lit fest — the Ottawa International Writers Festival — is <a href="https://writersfestival.org/events/spring-2022-podcast-season/the-book-of-grief-and-hamburgers">featuring me on their podcast series</a>.
I'm in conversation with my good friend Stephen Brockwell, a fantastic and undersung Ottawa poet, whose latest — and best — book, <i>Immune to the Sacred</i>, is out this season from Mansfield Press.
I admit I was a bit intimidated, because Stephen is a very deep thinker and a brilliant guy, and I imagined myself withering before his questions. But it ended up being a relaxed — and sometimes emotional — conversation.
Please <a href="https://writersfestival.org/events/spring-2022-podcast-season/the-book-of-grief-and-hamburgers">check it out</a>.
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Over and out.Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-3956758716389640652022-04-28T12:55:00.001-04:002022-04-28T12:55:27.558-04:00The Book of Grief and Hamburgers — I'm Interviewed by Jamie Tennant of CFMUJamie Tennant interviewed me about <i>The Book of Grief and Hamburgers</i> earlier in April.
You can listen <a href="https://www.jamietennant.ca/index.php/2022/04/28/e284-with-stuart-ross/">right here</a>!
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Over and out.Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-81741409360253007512022-04-21T10:28:00.006-04:002022-04-21T10:30:05.476-04:00My first thruzzinI wrote my first poem in ages this morning. I knew it would happen any day now, as I was inspired by an online reading by the great New York poet Charles North on Tuesday night. Then, this morning Laurie read me a line by Virginia Woolf, and I knew I was on my way. A poem was going to happen before I got out of bed.<p>
<p>
My poem is 36 lines long, free verse, divided into 12-line stanzas. It's a new form I call a "thruzzin." My poem is narrated by a dead person, who I guess is me. Death is on my mind, as it is so often. The Kingston poet, essayist, and fiction writer Steven Heighton died two days ago. He was only 60 years old. If you knew him, you might that if anyone was going to be immortal, it would be Steven. I met him about 25 years ago, at a house party in Ottawa. I was very, very drunk, and I remember going through the host's linen closet, commenting on towels and sheets, admiring a vintage iron. Steven appeared beside me, perhaps put a hand on my shoulder and led me back into the living room. He took me under his wing so I wouldn't walk off the balcony or make a fool of myself.<p>
<p>
After I wrote the last line of my first thruzzin this morning, about 20 minutes ago actually, I added the date of composition and realized it's 27 years to the day since my mother died. It's 27 years and one week since we had our last conversation.<p>
<p>
I hear the car tires outside now, rolling down Division Street. I can hear that it's raining. It was raining on the morning of April 21, 1995. Sometime after my mom's last breath, my dad and I walked out of the hospital. The sun was parting the clouds.<p>
<p>
SHIRLEY ROSS, February 7, 1929 – April 21, 1995
<p>
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<p>
Over and out.Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-53718859088697686412022-04-08T17:32:00.005-04:002022-04-08T17:32:58.454-04:00Launching with Bruce Whiteman in Cobourg!Into our third year of Covid it's a precarious time to be launching books. But Bruce Whiteman and I will be doing an in-person outdoor launch in Cobourg on April 10 at 2 pm outdoors at Let's Talk Books (25 King Street East).
Complicating matters is that Facebook recently disabled my account (along with thousands of others around the world) for no apparent reason and with no recourse. So much for 16 years of being a good FB citizen!
So getting the word out for this weekend's launch has been particularly challenging.
Anyway, we will be there. We will read. Books will be sold! Wear a good jacket!
Over and out.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt_ydTHB--bEHt5vci2tyqHkzVZdI4R-NsW0xqoA91EvcH3hzYZHgUBKopvx4RuCr4FWY4TQcE4mt1btGxktfxXSYEq2MgAHS4PJqgKKbe0JXtefz2_Uus06HaJqStXV1XMevpId1BLs-Rv56kfGZ8kFIriOrUkgUEshyUfCLdeAhLICKqpM/s1200/CobourgLaunch.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt_ydTHB--bEHt5vci2tyqHkzVZdI4R-NsW0xqoA91EvcH3hzYZHgUBKopvx4RuCr4FWY4TQcE4mt1btGxktfxXSYEq2MgAHS4PJqgKKbe0JXtefz2_Uus06HaJqStXV1XMevpId1BLs-Rv56kfGZ8kFIriOrUkgUEshyUfCLdeAhLICKqpM/s400/CobourgLaunch.jpg"/></a></div>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-91996309228993785122022-03-12T11:11:00.011-05:002022-03-12T11:15:39.632-05:00rob mclennan on The Book Of Grief And HamburgersI admit that I'm anxious about how my new book will be received. It's garnered about ten readers' comments on Goodreads so far, with star ratings ranging from two to five (out of five). I'm kind of dreading the first one-star review, but hopefully that will be by someone who loves those <i>Shades of Gray</i> books or Jordan Peterson. I find it weird that a couple of the readers there refer to <i>Grief and Hamburgers</i> as a poetry book or poetry collection. It's not. But I hit "Like" on every reader's comments because I am grateful they've read my book and thought about it.
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Anyway, Ottawa poetry mobster rob mclennan, as is so often the case, is the first out of the gate, with <a href="https://robmclennan.blogspot.com/2022/03/stuart-ross-book-of-grief-and-hamburgers.html?fbclid=IwAR1aniC2ivVzFpkE7K7ocbcRcgTVsZKrMJ2c8DfrkyfdzZvcSNZU4zcUu5w">this very thoughtful and moving look at my tiny book</a>.
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Here's a magnificent piece of ceramic art by John A. Betley, my friend (from a Randy Newman list-serv) in Michigan. He made this and sent it to me after my darling dog Lily died.
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Over and out.Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-87683225535085622752022-03-05T13:24:00.023-05:002022-03-05T17:21:46.993-05:00Unboxing The Book of Grief and Hamburgers<iframe class="BLOG_video_class" allowfullscreen="" youtube-src-id="57N8lVRb1k8" width="400" height="322" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/57N8lVRb1k8"></iframe>
Over and out.Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-20172959744155054982022-02-12T12:26:00.003-05:002022-02-12T12:26:41.032-05:00The Elements of the Short Story<p>Nope, this isn't an instructional blog post. "The Elements of the Short Story" is a short story of mine that appears in the new issue of the Vancouver-based lit magazine <i>sub-Terrain</i>. I think it might be my best story ever (though that isn't necessarily saying a lot—depends on your perspective!).</p><p>This story is nuts.</p><p>I am also pretty excited to be in an issue of the mag that also contains work by my friends Clint Burnham, Evie Christie, Kevin Spenst, Carlyn Zwarenstein, Tamara Faith-Berger, Matthew Firth, and Lillian Necakov.</p><p>That's the closest I've had to being at a party since Covid descended upon us.</p><p>News coming soon about my third short-story collection, coming out in fall 2022.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJQwDNiaaZS2YtvRez2ta_631PtYK7ZH5wkoL8P9jc3pZm_jz9rMldsEiyhUxkqpMOm6SPDx_R8gmPsw6qXXFwj8cRlFzPEUOvHUyfCssa1YsqpZ7cQYsdjB-AJQ93Zbcf7a476ULrFHzZ4l64BR0ZiTyIGYEoOLU1dEGxF_miyX-Y6tl-5co=s3264" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJQwDNiaaZS2YtvRez2ta_631PtYK7ZH5wkoL8P9jc3pZm_jz9rMldsEiyhUxkqpMOm6SPDx_R8gmPsw6qXXFwj8cRlFzPEUOvHUyfCssa1YsqpZ7cQYsdjB-AJQ93Zbcf7a476ULrFHzZ4l64BR0ZiTyIGYEoOLU1dEGxF_miyX-Y6tl-5co=w275-h366" width="275" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbv0d6d-kiwKVoNEPvErILNoBb3M8KlhOXKo1hr5yNzQHoKhlNjdcW4YXvPG5_HBei_zTxvUbF0SXjYCwDr-K1jXkpqHUPJMHfd9U-R_ecudEQlKiq9MsSKXESNHEJczsCW75IqbGUv0c3RDXHa4vTvkuKD8UeVVG-N0sqBqJNkwZbv2XR6uY=s3264" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbv0d6d-kiwKVoNEPvErILNoBb3M8KlhOXKo1hr5yNzQHoKhlNjdcW4YXvPG5_HBei_zTxvUbF0SXjYCwDr-K1jXkpqHUPJMHfd9U-R_ecudEQlKiq9MsSKXESNHEJczsCW75IqbGUv0c3RDXHa4vTvkuKD8UeVVG-N0sqBqJNkwZbv2XR6uY=w289-h385" width="289" /></a></div><br /><p>As they say in Xanadu,</p><p>Over and out.</p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-16116759827197845332022-01-01T20:08:00.012-05:002022-01-01T23:43:53.221-05:00My 2022 New Year's Poem<p> I don't know how long I've been writing a poem on New Year's Day. I do remember that my holiday tradition has its roots in a cardboard leaflet I sent out to friends and contacts probably in the late 1980s. The front cover of the first one read, "Seizing Cretins!" Gradually that morphed into a New Year's Day poem that I sent out through Canada Post, and I eventually switched to email when my recipient list got really long and expensive.</p><p>For the seventh year, Conan Tobias of <i>Taddle Creek</i> has asked me to record my poem over the phone and posted it up on the magazine's blog. <a href="https://www.taddlecreekmag.com/podcast/episode-66-life-begins-when-you-begin-the-beguine-stuart-rosss-annual-poem-for-the-new-year?fbclid=IwAR0SXJxk_sVks4i4_CMOlE6AZy6nxpfDGK6IyPpj8_3ditHrS5uF2oghZMI">Here it is</a>.</p><p>And if you'd like to read along…</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><b><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">LIFE BEGINS WHEN YOU BEGIN THE BEGUINE<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">for Charles North and Ron Padgett<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">A pancake of snow slides down the side of the building.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">It passes floor after floor. A pigeon and a blackbird<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">stop in midair to watch it and soon get bored.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Someday we will be able to talk on the phone<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">and see each other like we are on TV. I’m not kidding.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Someday we will each have a real television <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">right in our own living room and we will watch<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Jack Benny and Edith Piaf circle each other,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">masked. Plus there will be ads for cigarettes and bras.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Someday we will have a rectangle with four wheels<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">that we can move around in. At night, it will sleep<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">in our “driveway.” Don’t forget to put the top up!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">The sidewalk peers up and sees a pancake of snow<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">approaching. For the first time it experiences suspense.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">I pronounce every word as if I have no mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">I keep all your letters in the credenza and end<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">all my letters with a cadenza. O beloved chunk<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">of geography, please put Ljubljana in my backyard.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">We can ride up and down the funicular.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Someday a stack of pages will become attached and<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">declared a book. As James Tate once said,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">“My cuticles are a mess.” Inspired, I wrote<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">a Broadway musical about cuticles, choreographed<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">by Busby Berkeley. It closed after just one day<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">but changed the lives of those who saw it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Look. Someday we’ll understand each other. Someday<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">we will learn how to grieve. Someday we’ll<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">realize what happened. Just sit back and wait <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">till the pancake hits the pavement.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Stuart Ross<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;">Cobourg, 1 January 2022<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: Baskerville, serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 18pt; margin: 0cm;"><span face="-webkit-standard">Over and out.</span></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-32531838906401103582021-12-30T10:43:00.000-05:002021-12-30T10:43:01.115-05:00I read some poems for Peter F. Yacht Club<p>I don't know why Ottawa poet and compulsive publisher rob mclennan calls his annual event and anthology <i>Peter F. Yacht Club</i>. Maybe he even told me and I forgot.</p><p>Anyway, in this season of surging Covid cases, there will of course be no <i>Peter F. Yacht Club</i> reading at the Carlton Tavern on Armstrong Street, a scuzzy, vegetarian-unfriendly, but otherwise friendly bar that rob has made into an Ottawa literary landmark.</p><p>So rob invited a bunch of past <i>PFYC</i> contributors to record short videos so he could assemble a video mag this year. I took part, reading three poems from the past year or two. Actually, I wrote one of the poems just a few days ago, during an insomniacal night of despondency.</p><p>You can find my readings, and readings by many other fine poets, <a href="https://abovegroundpress.blogspot.com/2021/12/the-peter-f-yacht-club-30-virtual-issue.html?fbclid=IwAR1oUjXWLEuj8eS0xOZLv1rOcoTc7U564I__hVwim_Iba6mlVqRZYV7H40U">right over here</a>.</p><p>I've been a very bad blogger in recent years. A lot of pretty good things have happened for me literary-wise, even as my extremely modest star fades, perhaps because I'm old now and irrelevant, perhaps because I left Toronto, perhaps because my writing has gone downhill.</p><p>Wishing you all well in 2022.</p><p>Over and out.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-57595688187384640962021-08-01T12:35:00.002-04:002021-08-01T12:35:26.109-04:00I'm reading in the Lit Balm Surrealist Poetry Extravaganza!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPqpgNYmT2h7Pe8dFY9drbe6rQpJ2fB-c0qSprWzozYri1y1Y1Dc-m3_djIxUb6Rsbs5Ai_XhHyCu_HFZmSbKzLjUKCB_FmWJ0anOcfaCaw1Dg3UG72XF2FHRhdVKOl43QJB2Ug/s1485/228855740_10222976237705896_8921720952210965558_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1485" data-original-width="1080" height="533" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPqpgNYmT2h7Pe8dFY9drbe6rQpJ2fB-c0qSprWzozYri1y1Y1Dc-m3_djIxUb6Rsbs5Ai_XhHyCu_HFZmSbKzLjUKCB_FmWJ0anOcfaCaw1Dg3UG72XF2FHRhdVKOl43QJB2Ug/w388-h533/228855740_10222976237705896_8921720952210965558_n.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><br />I was invited recently to take part in the Lit Balm Surrealist Poetry Extravaganza! Lit Balm is one of my two or three favourite online reading series, and it's hosted from the US and Australia.<p></p><p>Yesterday was the first instalment of this festival of the surreal: Fantastic readings by Dean Young (oh my gawd, Dean Young!!), Clayre Benzadón, Dan Raphael, Anatoly Kudryavitsky, and Dominique Hecq. A panel included Young, along with Andrew Joron and the legendary Penelope Rosemont (who is also reading in today's instalment).</p><p>It's an extraordinary honour to have been invited by Lit Balm organizers Jonathan Penton, Cassandra Atherton, and Mark Vincenz.</p><p>I'll be reading on August 7 at 5 pm EDT. It's intimidating! But I'll do it!</p><p>Look forward also to readings by Paul Hoover, Maxine Chernoff, Pierre Joris, Charles Bernstein, and so many more!</p><p>Over and out.</p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-85784919617884124052021-07-05T15:41:00.003-04:002021-07-05T15:41:28.560-04:00Vax Populi: I read with Alice Burdick<p>I read online on June 22 with one of my favourite people and one of my favourite poets! That'd be Alice Burdick, of Mahone Bay, Nova Scotia, whose first four full-length poetry collections I edited. Her most recent book is <i>Deportment</i>, a selected volume edited by Alessandro Porco. (I suggested the project to him!)</p><p>We called our reading Vax Populi. And there will be more Vax Populi readings!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/X8rE6j60evc" width="320" youtube-src-id="X8rE6j60evc"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Over and out.</div><br /><p><br /></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-75885941314687383302021-06-30T01:35:00.005-04:002021-06-30T01:35:36.333-04:00Reading at Poetry With Pakriti, July 3, 9:30 am EDT<p> On Saturday, July 3, at 9:30 am EDT, I'm reading for the wonderful series Poetry With Prakriti, hosted by the Prakriti Foundation in Chennai, India.</p><p>It happens, of course, on Zoom.</p><p>I believe I'll be the third Canadian poet featured, following Ayesha Chatterjee and George Elliott Clarke in recent months.</p><p>I'll be reading a selection of new and older poems, and then the host and I will have a chat.</p><p>You can register for this reading <a href="https://us02web.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_0HKYTcGjSSC6NxqPMy8PGA" target="_blank">right here</a>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx3AXUkHA2q11lQLsY16-lMLJvUzxOnr8cT_WznyAWQ3y2cC3VZV9MQGllk5tMv2RUecBV3wlGIm24CrQxFQ_iElvzQoHCuGpM8T4KA5hZ-RTzIpWewDpSubuVUXkDYe__EGbDfg/s2000/Stuart+Ross+Prakriti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx3AXUkHA2q11lQLsY16-lMLJvUzxOnr8cT_WznyAWQ3y2cC3VZV9MQGllk5tMv2RUecBV3wlGIm24CrQxFQ_iElvzQoHCuGpM8T4KA5hZ-RTzIpWewDpSubuVUXkDYe__EGbDfg/s320/Stuart+Ross+Prakriti.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Over and out.</div><br /><p><br /></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-17480313615615002062021-04-30T15:11:00.002-04:002021-04-30T15:11:36.679-04:00For those wanting to study poetry for the first time…<p>Once again, I am teaching Poetry: Introduction at the University of Toronto's School of Continuing Studies. I just finished my first semester leading this online course last week, and it went even better than I'd hoped. I got fantastic feedback from the students, many of whom felt their whole view of poetry had exponentially expanded.</p><p>The course is based on 10 asynchronous lessons, and bolstered by four (I might change it to five) live online workshops.</p><p>Within the loose restrictions of the prescribed learning outcomes, I was able to create the course and choose the textbooks and other readings myself.</p><p>You can take Poetry: Introduction from anywhere in the world (though if you're in Dubai, as one of last semester's students was, those live workshops will start at 3 in the morning!).</p><p>The next semester begins on May 10. <a href="https://learn.utoronto.ca/programs-courses/courses/1687-poetry-introduction">Here's all the info.</a></p><p>Over and out.</p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-13662702274575920262021-04-30T09:43:00.000-04:002021-04-30T09:43:11.909-04:00Ah yes, my halcyon days…<p>Just a year ago, I appeared in this multiple-choice question produced by the Halifax Public Library. It remains a glorious marker of my noble achievements as a Canadian writer.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJWaA8BatgcKlqpriKsawvbEX9PvcW7mcLvZfK6TLFfOTNbQV2KEm67UwKK5QkmIC1ZM1PCElWDTgO3e2uxnMeZy9Ag7F9TAqk_dWvk87kX-1tEzzmkBiaYEEbBJDn7s6NuxEEg/s2220/95387311_10158143529315692_5392050119770112000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2220" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJWaA8BatgcKlqpriKsawvbEX9PvcW7mcLvZfK6TLFfOTNbQV2KEm67UwKK5QkmIC1ZM1PCElWDTgO3e2uxnMeZy9Ag7F9TAqk_dWvk87kX-1tEzzmkBiaYEEbBJDn7s6NuxEEg/s320/95387311_10158143529315692_5392050119770112000_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Over and out.</div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-19027344366679235172021-04-26T15:55:00.004-04:002021-04-26T15:55:54.050-04:00Motel of the Opposable Thumbs on the ReLit Long Shortlist!<p> The ReLit Awards are catching up on four years worth of awards, and I'm so pleased to see that my last solo poetry book, <i>Motel of the Opposable Thumbs</i>, made their 2020 Long Shortlist. There are a lot of really good books on that list, including Mark Laba's <i>Inflatable Life</i>, which I edited for my Feed Dog Book imprint at Anvil Press, and James Hawes's first full-length collection, <i>Breakfast with a Heron</i>, from my alma mater, Mansfield Press.</p><p>I've had a few books on the ReLit lists in the past. Damned if I can remember them all now. But I do remember that <i>Buying Cigarettes for the Dog</i> won in the short story category back in 2010.</p><p>A couple of other entries in this batch of ReLit catch-up awards are exciting for me, both of them also Feed Dog Books: the outrageous <i>The Least You Can Do Is Be Magnificent</i>, by Steve Venright. and the sublime <i>The Headless Man</i>, by Peter Dubé.</p><p>Over and out!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPnfo3_yBUP5sVbo5St3n7pznohxFjt5Zt1lEa0lOdrP8X-KgdlFwvBLgWv4QqOSM4QFDq2aJ1iwNUAaf6UxOc_Y0O7lJeSjlhlUD37N4g-zBfP8MkW94zWjb50hwRN6mHBU_mA/s960/176811900_10159830257558465_2640921683004260619_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="786" data-original-width="960" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPnfo3_yBUP5sVbo5St3n7pznohxFjt5Zt1lEa0lOdrP8X-KgdlFwvBLgWv4QqOSM4QFDq2aJ1iwNUAaf6UxOc_Y0O7lJeSjlhlUD37N4g-zBfP8MkW94zWjb50hwRN6mHBU_mA/w408-h334/176811900_10159830257558465_2640921683004260619_n.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-14229080752340429152021-04-15T12:01:00.005-04:002021-04-15T12:01:52.769-04:00Interviewing Lillian Necakov about her new Feed Dog Book, Il Virus<p> I had the pleasure the other week of interviewing Lillian Necakov for Word on the Street. We talked about her new book — which happens to be the latest from my Feed Dog Book imprint through Anvil Press — <i>il virus</i> and about the duties of the poet in a time of crisis/pandemic.</p><p><i>il virus </i>gathers over 100 poems that Lillian wrote during the first Covid lockdown in Toronto last spring.</p><p>I've known Lillian for decades, and this was a new and enjoyable way of talking with her! As interview, editor, fellow writer. You can order Lillian's astonishing new collection<a href="https://www.anvilpress.com/books/il-virus"> directly from Anvil Press</a> or find it or order it from your favourite indie bookstore.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QQiwzWYh0Mw" width="320" youtube-src-id="QQiwzWYh0Mw"></iframe></div><p><br /></p>Over and out.<p></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-10950362094162703772021-03-15T02:52:00.001-04:002021-03-15T02:52:06.649-04:00Reading on March 17 for Poets Corner <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pJpuXhyVRmJOnQcgPSD1LES_ir-dBA8zDmCiuonUstwR4MWynfB2tVfiN7JDAjMGyq0ug7eIy6t3IO3UKBeoGzkA4orUno09wx2SbqwfE2ep5DFzGSQYGR9LEWfU_NmoekmqWg/s792/PURDHAM-AND-ROSS-MARCH-2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="612" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5pJpuXhyVRmJOnQcgPSD1LES_ir-dBA8zDmCiuonUstwR4MWynfB2tVfiN7JDAjMGyq0ug7eIy6t3IO3UKBeoGzkA4orUno09wx2SbqwfE2ep5DFzGSQYGR9LEWfU_NmoekmqWg/w362-h469/PURDHAM-AND-ROSS-MARCH-2021.jpg" width="362" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have a virtual poetry reading coming up on March 17, 7:30 PM PST / 10:30 pm ET, as part of the Poets Corner reading series out of Vancouver. Also on the bill is Medrie Purdham.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I plan to read mostly new poems, as well as a couple of selections from <i>Motel of the Opposable Thumbs</i> and a couple from <i>70 Kippers</i>, my recent collaborative book with Michael Dennis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Please join me!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Over and out.</div><br /><p></p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13173932.post-20267998621396668092021-02-24T15:50:00.002-05:002021-02-24T15:50:28.425-05:00Poetry: Introduction at University of Toronto's School of Continuing Studies starts March 1<p> It's been an incredibly busy year so far. At the University of Ottawa, I am writer in residence, which has its particular sweet challenges online. And I'm teaching a fourth-year creative writing workshop I devised called Blowing Up Fiction. Again: especially challenging online.</p><p>But it's going well. It's busy times. I am doing less editing and more teaching. I really wish I was living in Ottawa for these four months. I wish I could meet with the students in person and create in-person events. But Zoom works pretty well.</p><p>Over at the University of Toronto School of Continuing Studies I am in my eight semester of teaching A Grammar Handbook, so that one is pretty easy for me. But on Monday I begin my first real creative writing course there: Poetry: Introduction. It will be conducted through both synchronous and asynchronous methods (i.e., live stuff online and then modules containing lessons), and I've spent weeks adapting the existing course to my own teaching methods, priorities, and interests: and what I think would work best for people just getting into poetry or who in the early parts of their poetry career.</p><p>If you are interested in enrolling in that course, or know someone who might be, <a href="https://learn.utoronto.ca/programs-courses/courses/1687-poetry-introduction">here is the link</a>.</p><p>Over and out.</p>Stuart Rosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08548545554609320939noreply@blogger.com0