LEMON HOUND

More Bite Than Bark Since 2005
Author Archive
Thanks & So Long

Thanks & So Long

These last few months have been difficult, knowing that Lemon Hound would be ending, not quite believing it. I’ve been torn between wanting–as has been my feeling from the beginning–to save this as a space for women and diverse voices–and wanting my life back; between knowing that we need to provide more opportunities for writers...
An Introduction: Barbara Mor

An Introduction: Barbara Mor

At Yale recently, I gave a reading accompanied by two graduate students. One of them, Edgar Garcia, started his reading by introducing a poet he said that he had discovered in submissions and had since found, met, interviewed and published. Her name was Barbara Mor. She passed away this year, but not before she found...
In Conversation: Shane Book

In Conversation: Shane Book

SQ: You’ve been writing poetry for many years–I first heard about you in glowing terms back in 1999 or so–and yet you’ve just published your second book. Is there a reticence about poetry and poetics, a rigorous poetic practice, a diverse writing life or a combination? Or something else? SB: I took a long time...
Last Friday Dance Break

Last Friday Dance Break

Meg Johnson: Five Poems

UNSWERVING I see a wire under my skin. From the top of my underwear inching up my center, a painless stem. I worry I am not real. I worry the wire should be tucked inside, not forcing its way out. I tell myself whether I am human or machine is no one’s business.   YOUR...
George Murray: Three Poems from Diversion

George Murray: Three Poems from Diversion

#ClockworkOrRage Come all you haters and see what I have wrought. Our primary role as teachers is to demonstrate how to best waste time. I survived Seamus Heaney and all I got was this lousy career. Monuments are built daily to distraction. The terms rescuers and salvagers are mostly interchangeable. Before the sun has risen...
Northern British Columbia: Six Poets

Northern British Columbia: Six Poets

I sought these poets knowing I was catching only a slice of northern BC’s writers, in order to offer a glimpse into some of what’s going on out here. This doesn’t represent a renaissance – there have been poets toiling in these eskers and valleys for ages – but it’s proof of a region’s literature...
Kevin McPherson: faux foe

Kevin McPherson: faux foe

faux foe   1. lover pain but   ado,  mine blinder tenant ton or ours, pale fins         2. pair pour chair   pays reporter rein main   bail blesser bras   seize dire surgeon       3. car  imposition   ride habits bribe pipes   waters parole, volatile pond  ...
Call for Work: New Winnipeg Poets

Call for Work: New Winnipeg Poets

Jonathan Ball will edit Lemon Hound’s forthcoming folio spotlighting New Winnipeg Poets. We seek poetry from Winnipeg (and surrounding area) writers that have produced no more than two books. Please submit no more than four previously unpublished poems, along with a brief bio, to jonathan@jonathanball.com with the subject line “Lemon Hound Submission” by March 1st,...
Donato Mancini: from Loitersack

Donato Mancini: from Loitersack

To advance slide show click on the page. [Show picture list]     Donato Mancini makes visual and procedural poetry, bookworks, and visual art. His main books are: SNOWLINE (2015), Buffet World (2011) Fact ‘N’ Value (2011), Æthel (2007) and Ligatures (2005). Notable exhibitions of Mancini’s visual artworks have included exhibitions through Artspeak, Western Front, Gallery Atsui, Malaspina...
John Thompson: Professor's Last Stand

John Thompson: Professor’s Last Stand

PROFESSOR’S LAST STAND   Don’t believe I’m here: I’ve packed, gone without a trace somewhere north of north,   or I’m lying in the oily arms of the richest woman in Calgary, Alberta;   don’t you realise? I’ve been disappearing all year: at least half of me is eating tea-dunked chappatis outside Katmandu   and...
Alicia E Stallings: The Machines Mourn the Passing of People

Alicia E Stallings: The Machines Mourn the Passing of People

Lynn Coady: Four Questions

Lynn Coady: Four Questions

Frankie Barnet: Place plays a significant role in your work. Stories like “Wireless”, “Hellgoing” and “Another World” all seem to have an interest in exploring and critiquing cosmopolitan aspects of city life, as well as differences between city and country life. You yourself are from Cape Breton but now live in Edmonton. How important is...
Tim Cresswell: Three poems

Tim Cresswell: Three poems

A GLASS OF WATER They say this glass of London water passed through eight bodies before mine. Starting near Heathrow. A Sikh cabby. The morning shift. Then teacher between classes, a young woman, Kiwi, fit to burst. A Southall market seller, bagging mangoes and bitter gourd. A man who lives on a Brentford boat, pissing...
Stephen Collis: from Redactical

Stephen Collis: from Redactical

1 Stuck again we came up with something else Tried gluing the cardboard shards of boxes To our heads and backs like The defensive plates and spikes Of dinosaurs we weren’t but were becoming Or drove out west like a movie we remember Where girls feet rest on the dash Window prism light listening to...
Margaret Christakos: Crossing Over: Temporalities of Erasure and Recuperation in the Contemporary Long Poem

Margaret Christakos: Crossing Over: Temporalities of Erasure and Recuperation in the Contemporary Long Poem

Crossing Over: Temporalities of Erasure and Recuperation in the Contemporary Long Poem, For Example, in Erín Moure’s The Unmemntioable and M. NourbeSe Philip’s Zong!   by Margaret Christakos     One is adrift, the many drifts. Glen Lowry, “Of—If Not In—A Vernacular,” West Coast Line 50 “Staging Vernaculars”:4-6.   I woke Sun Feb 2, 2014...
Damian Rogers on Elise Partridge

Damian Rogers on Elise Partridge

ON GENEROSITY, CORRESPONDENCE, AND EMBRACING EXILE I think the exile of poetry is also the exile of the best of humankind. —Octavio Paz Why shouldn’t I drift off like a lost balloon? But you gave me another gift: “I’ll carry you in my heart till my last day on earth.” —Elise Partridge One week ago...
Lynn Crosbie: Three Poems

Lynn Crosbie: Three Poems

Lynn Crosbie is a Toronto writer. Some of the poems from this collection, The Corpses of the Future, have appeared in Highway magazine. Her new novel Where Did You Sleep Last Night comes out this spring with House of Anansi Press. Her latest e-short story/fanfic, “Little Snowfall” is online now.
JULIE MANNELL: A POEM AGAINST PRETTY BODIES

JULIE MANNELL: A POEM AGAINST PRETTY BODIES

A POEM AGAINST PRETTY BODIES We all feel very bad about cutting our wrists when we’re at an age where a certain element of creativity is expected and maturity is required. I do it like a little girl. I do it the wrong way on purpose. Sometimes I do it so others can see it....
Cornelia Barber: Looking at Emma's Dilemma

Cornelia Barber: Looking at Emma’s Dilemma

        “There is No Scene Here” Looking at Emma’s Dilemma (Henry Hills, 2012) by Cornelia Barber To look is to be curious, to be interested, to lower yourself. No one you look at is worth it. Looking is always demeaning. The word conversation is banished. I think that’s what best conveys the...
Ben Lerner: Didactic Elegy

Ben Lerner: Didactic Elegy

Sense that sees itself is spirit. —Novalis 1. Intention draws a bold, black line across an otherwise white field. Speculation establishes gradations of darkness where there are none, allowing the critic to posit narrative time. I posit the critic to distance myself from intention, a despicable affect. Yet intention is necessary if the field is...
Tanya Tagaq: Untitled

Tanya Tagaq: Untitled

when air becomes thin flesh could be moved like warm butter and chewed and swallowed without hurting anyone where my own insides can be pulled through my fingers where death seems like the only thing that is sure the only natural thing left where the lights go dim and reality blurs and my thoughts turn...

Jane Eaton Hamilton: Immaculata

IMMACULATA Oh mud lover, oh dirt, oh sewage, I’ve been wearing April like galoshes, Stomping your ditch in a swill of brown water, nursing your weeds like tits. Well, that’s over, it’s May tomorrow— no more quicksand for me. Is this love, this ooze and stain? Your leeches ride my elbows. Your scum exhales me....
Colin Fulton: Lesson Eighteen

Colin Fulton: Lesson Eighteen

  DON’T PARALIPSISE THROUGH MY ZEUGMA AND TELL ME IT’S PHRONESIS DON’T MOVERE ALONG MY LITOTE AND CALL IT ELENCHIC DON’T PLEONASATE AMID MY MAXIMS AND CALL IT ONEDISMUS DON’T ENALLAGE ONTO MY OCCUPATIO AND TELL ME IT’S SANNIONIC DON’T BOMPHILOGIATE AGAINST MY APOPHASIS AND CALL IT KAIROS DON’T ARETE MY ISOCOLONATE AND GO ON...
Madhur Anand: Two Poems

Madhur Anand: Two Poems

IF I CAN MAKE IT THERE It’s January and in the news, white fluff, cherry trees flowering in Brooklyn. What to make of the changed phenology? A closet of cuttings: Pale yellow pages. Lignin destabilized where lines are preserved. I’ll follow greenhouse seeds, edit second editions but need more breathing room, more literature review. And...