LEMON HOUND

More Bite Than Bark Since 2005
Poetry & Poetics

Cat Diary

CAT DIARY The cat keeps staring at the corner. He’s been there forever, listening. Okay, he gets up to eat and shit but he always goes back to that corner in the bedroom. He just stares. My girlfriend, Staci, there’s a word she likes: Uncanny. I can’t touch him or talk to him. Freaks him...

Sonnet L’Abbe: Writing through Sonnet 22

From Sonnet’s Shakespeare: 154 Ecolonizations XXII So many girls are missing. Shamefully, no type rescues dead demoiselles. Media memorials nod: isolated occurrences, gasp-worthy. Mouthfuls of sand, throats squaw-red, our foundation sedates – butch! burn, twat! witch! – sentences. Winters here; frontiersmen; soft furs: brown siblings, the threshold threatening looks and ideals. This ignominy daylights homeys’...
Ben Tripp: French

Ben Tripp: French

FRENCH She couldn’t leave the room She wasn’t able to leave the room She used to not be able to leave the room The imperfect is the film “I was swimming.” The composed past is the photograph “I swam.” I don’t know exactly when I’m thinking I know exactly where I’m thinking To prefer the...

Joshua Mehigan: One Poem

Heard at the Men’s Mission How many sons-of-bitches no one loves, with long coats on in June and beards like nests— guys no one touches without latex gloves, squirming with lice, themselves a bunch of pests, their cheeks and noses pocked like grapefruit rind— fellas with permanent shits and yellowish eyes who, if they came...
Emerging Toronto Poets: Stevie & Aisha Want You!

Emerging Toronto Poets: Stevie & Aisha Want You!

Here’s the first of a few LAST CALLS as we head into our final year of publishing. Lemon Hound is open to submissions from Emerging Toronto poets starting today and continuing until August 23, 2014. Co-editors Stevie Howell & Aisha Sasha John are seeking 3-5 pages of previously unpublished poetry by Toronto poets with two books or less, for a folio of new voices....
Alex Porco on Gary Barwin: Moon Baboon Canoe

Alex Porco on Gary Barwin: Moon Baboon Canoe

In an interview from June 2010, Canadian poet Gary Barwin expressed his discomfort with being labeled as a surrealist writer and performer. In the early twenty-first century, the term Surrealism risks mystifying as much as it illuminates. “I always have some misgivings about the term when applied outside of its original context,” explains Barwin. [I]t...
From Al Purdy's Storm Warning 2

From Al Purdy’s Storm Warning 2

In my reading around Al Purdy of late I came across a copy of Storm Warning 2. I would love to get the poems up too, but I’ll start with this amazing gallery of poets circa 1975.
Geneviève Robichaud in Conversation with Erín Moure

Geneviève Robichaud in Conversation with Erín Moure

In the spirit of the recently released Secession by Chus Pato with Insecession by Erín Moure (BookThug, 2014), this interview is in two parts. Part One, with Chus Pato, is here while the second part, with Erín Moure, is published below. GR: On the BookThug blog, you ask Chus Pato: “If you could sum up Secession in a few words, what would...
Geneviève Robichaud in Conversation with Chus Pato (Translated by Erín Moure)

Geneviève Robichaud in Conversation with Chus Pato (Translated by Erín Moure)

On the occasion of the recently released Secession by Chus Pato with Insecession by Erín Moure (BookThug, 2014), I had the lucky opportunity of discussing this work with both authors. Seeing how in Secession/Insecession the two texts face each other, are in correspondence with each other, this interview befittingly begins with questions for Chus Pato...
Geneviève Robichaud in Conversation with Chus Pato (versión orixinal)

Geneviève Robichaud in Conversation with Chus Pato (versión orixinal)

A versión en inglés da entrevista está aquí. A segunda parte desta entrevista, con Erín Moure, será publicada o día 7 de xullo 2014, aquí. Geneviève Robichaud (GR): Está marabilloso ter unha obra túa en inglés en Canadá, Chus. Erín Moure destaca que a túa liñaxe poética vén en parte de Mallarmé, Baudelaire, Lautréamont, e...

Heather Cromarty on Chris Tysh: Our Lady of the Flowers, Echoic

Each English version of Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal bears the mark of its translator; each one swings so wildly that sometimes a poem is barely recognizable from one version to the next. “Aux objets répugnants nous trouvons des appas”; “We yield, enthralled, to things repugnant, base”; “In repugnant things we discover charms”; Robert Lowell’s...
Short Take on Margaux Williamson

Short Take on Margaux Williamson

I Could See Everything The Paintings of Margaux Williamson, Coach House 2014 What I know about painting has been gleaned from looking at paintings, an art form that by now often feels like knitting. The way that Impressionism was a response to Realism. How does painting respond to the ubiquitous digital image? What I want...
Fazeela Jiwa in Conversation with Rita Wong and Larissa Lai: sybil unrest

Fazeela Jiwa in Conversation with Rita Wong and Larissa Lai: sybil unrest

[June 9, 2014] Fazeela Jiwa (FJ): sybil unrest was originally published by LINEBooks in 2008, and was just re-released by New Star Books late last year. In your acknowledgements you state that the poem began during the “fraught moment” of the 2003 SARS crisis and the American invasion of Iraq. Is there a similar contextual impetus...
Waaseyaa’sin Christine Sy in Conversation with Janet Marie Rogers

Waaseyaa’sin Christine Sy in Conversation with Janet Marie Rogers

This interview took place in March 2014 Waaseyaa’sin Christine Sy (WCS): In your latest publication, Unearthed (Leaf Press, 2011), you pay homage to the Coast Salish peoples in whose lands you are a long-time visitor to/dweller in, and acknowledge their lands as informing much of your poetry. You also hold strong to your Mohawk-ness-Tuscarora-ness, the landscapes...

Eric Schmaltz on Divya Victor: Things To Do With Your Mouth

Things to Do With Your Mouth (Les Figues, 2014) is full-throated and bursting. Published in April 2014 as part of TrenchArt: The Logistics Series by Les Figues Press, this is the newest book from Troll-Thread’s sharp-witted former co-conspirator, Divya Victor. With intent to interrogate the long history of fear of women’s voices, Victor employs appropriation and...
Daniel Zomparelli on Jon Paul Fiorentino: Needs Improvement

Daniel Zomparelli on Jon Paul Fiorentino: Needs Improvement

What is it to press against the norm? To push back against the bullies using language, to be the Steve Urkels of society? In Jon Paul Fiorentino’s sixth collection, he sets out to deconstruct the language of pedagogy and what it means to “not fit in.” To get a better understanding of the work, I...
Cory Collins: Short Take on Altar for the Bourgeoisie

Cory Collins: Short Take on Altar for the Bourgeoisie

Altar for the Bourgeoisie is the eponymous drawing from Michael Young’s Coruscant Altars, exhibited in 2011 at The Rooms in St. John’s, the cultural complex that houses Newfoundland and Labrador’s provincial art gallery. Created as part of work from his Elbow Room residency, Altar for the Bourgeoisie showcases the tropes of excess among the rich...
Marianne Ackerman on Donna Tartt: The Goldfinch

Marianne Ackerman on Donna Tartt: The Goldfinch

Twenty pages into The Goldfinch (Little Brown and Company, 2013) I started having chest pains, accompanied by shortness of breath. My wrist tingled. I figured it must be something I ate, or maybe early signs of a heart attack. But the most obvious source of discomfort lay close at hand, no more than twelve, maybe...

Klara du Plessis on Redell Olsen: Film Poems

I have spent much of today mesmerized by online video clips. It’s the usual YouTube trail of one to the next, yet this is the future that awaits you too, when reading Redell Olsen’s newest work, Film Poems (Les Figues Press, 2014).  Film Poems is a collection of five poetic sequences – that is, unified...
Laura Broadbent: Short Film II

Laura Broadbent: Short Film II

SHORT FILM II A woman in her early thirties is shown performing all the rhythmic, banal things any human being does unselfconsciously throughout the day such as brushing teeth, tripping in legs of underwear, peeing, splashing water over face, leaning on the counter while drinking orange juice out of the carton, staring into space combined...
Rachael Katz: Two Poems

Rachael Katz: Two Poems

The Mall is Closing I will always get the wrong sweet. It’s not that—it’s not that, but impulse is a high-fructose corn syrup something something razorblades. How about let’s kill nothing not even our own indecision because it is a warm bird body under its feathers. Bless you in the back aisle I can’t see...
La Théorie, un dimanche: we want to hear from you

La Théorie, un dimanche: we want to hear from you

In celebration of Quebec’s diverse writing by women, we’re putting a celebratory folio together for the fall that captures the impact that La Théorie, un dimanche (remue-ménage, 1988) and its recent translation Theory, A Sunday (Belladonna*, 2013) has had since its initial publication in the eighties. We invite you to submit 300-800* words in any...
Kevin Walter: Five Poems

Kevin Walter: Five Poems

MILF Sonnet 5 Do not infringe upon her hot Joan of Arc fetish, mimetic fisherman—your namesake ghastly on the gentle flagstaff. A shrewd witness testifies against your fidelity, the blenders, libertine mainframes. Weatherman Ted needs his whiskers, after all. Henchmen debase pinwheels, hornets philander the redhead. This ethanol thermostat tells us the math was forewarned....

Antony Di Nardo: If it Weren’t for the Mouth of the St. Lawrence

IF IT WEREN’T FOR THE MOUTH OF THE ST. LAWRENCE I’ve got a message for you, he said, But saying it would take all the time in the world So instead I wrote it on the face of the river, A place Banksy hasn’t yet found. I’ve got a message for you, but it’s deep...
Douglas Kearney: Two Poems

Douglas Kearney: Two Poems

“I HAVE A PENIS! MAMA HAS A PENIS!” a song in me of my daughter’s wayward penis, twin to her brother’s stolid one. gone on its hero’s wanderings, audacious penis! it’s nautical, my daughter’s penis, a craft of sail, propeller, or oar, madcap ship of the frothy bath sea penis! it’s chthonic, my daughter’s penis,...
Billeh Nickerson: Two Poems

Billeh Nickerson: Two Poems

THE GHOST OF BLOWJOBS PAST Suppose you’re invited to a Christmas party, and when you arrive at the condo lobby something feels familiar, which is strange since it’s not your kind of building and you don’t recall ever coming there before. Suppose on the flight up it hits you that the building occupies the space...
David Bradford: Riding Bitch

David Bradford: Riding Bitch

RIDING BITCH I must have been 9 or 10, divorce still but a pipe dream, and just barely, then, taller than my mother, and just at 5 feet. I called shotgun, the callow son swinging the Altima door open, only to have him tell me to sit my ass in the back, that the front...
Jen Currin: The Whole Wind

Jen Currin: The Whole Wind

THE WHOLE WIND Someone at a party told me Mercury was in retrograde & then asked how I found my poems. Later he read a list of vulnerabilities & we all held hands. The children always steal spoons & listen to the dogs – I can just barely bandage the past enough for them to...

Josef Kaplan: Two Introductions

INTRODUCING TRISHA LOW I think we can all agree that “emotional poetry” is a disease. Maybe not the poetry. But the incessance of the emotional environment—the appeals to a “felt” response that exists only in its inconceivability, and its consequent legitimacy as a response recognized only insofar as it remains inconceivable—surely this can be described...
Sarah Lang: For Tamara

Sarah Lang: For Tamara

Considering how important generators are, / you’d be surprised at how poorly they’re drawn. / I’m talking magnets and copper wire. Tamara, apparently don’t throw out your textbooks. / I’m running out of advice. / You’re going to be better at this than I. One of the most difficult things to learn is to be...
John Cotter: Comment & Selection of Bill Knott Poems

John Cotter: Comment & Selection of Bill Knott Poems

Bill Knott wrote matchless and indelible poems in a wider variety of styles and modes than most mature poets try on while shopping. Remarkably, though he was loathe to acknowledge it, single voice can be heard ringing through each: righteous and irascible as a prophet, wised-up but awake to new kinds of beauty, adept at...
Anne-Marie Turza: Two Poems

Anne-Marie Turza: Two Poems

DEAR GOD —AND WHEN I SAY GOD, I MEAN THE GOD who made the snail, curled in a perfect house, shitting on its own head; I mean the god of untrue colours, the chartreuse and teal god; I mean god of the conditional tense, in the dark on the sixth day, who said If there...
Jennica Harper: Three Poems

Jennica Harper: Three Poems

MY FATHER, AS JACK NICHOLSON A man who knows a pretty girl when he sees one, and he’s always seeing one. He reads waitresses’ tags, calls them their names. All down-home Daddy drawl. When he was young, this probably worked with some. Now they humour him. For some reason I want them to be spellbound,...
Rodney Koeneke: sharon mesmer

Rodney Koeneke: sharon mesmer

sharon mesmer Sharon get up be cinema again for long pearly stretches the sky isn’t anything but stars inside the theaters projectors push light through emulsions soon we’ll be peasants films digitally perfect sugars beat by threshers from the cane with alarming new efficiency mixed in low-calorie sodas and presented to you at your table...

George Stanley: Two Poems

MEMORIES OF DESIRE I am unable to focus, I don’t want to focus on desires I can no longer feel. Desires for power over a younger, slender guy, a boy, a son.  A surge of anticipation of the first touch, but first the words, now mild, now menacing, touching and talking, touching after first talking,...
Mark Bibbins: Swallowed

Mark Bibbins: Swallowed

Swallowed When I see an escalator I have to kiss everyone on it, don’t you? If you like these pastries—our lawyer calls them perfidy rolls— there are more on his helicopter. He’s Serbian or something, whole family wiped out by his other family. But he’s fine now. Drop a kiss on the cultural floor, three-second...
Vanessa Place: As James Franco knows

Vanessa Place: As James Franco knows

AS JAMES FRANCO KNOWS As James Franco knows, Poetry makes me feel like I can create whatever I want, because all you really have to do is express what you feel emotionally and physically and how this affects the world around you As James Franco knows, Poetry makes me feel like I am singing a...
Matthew Zapruder: Two Poems

Matthew Zapruder: Two Poems

SUN BEAR yesterday at the Oakland zoo I was walking alone for a moment past the enclosure holding the sun bear also known as beruang madu it looked at me without interest it has powerful jaws and truly loves honey it sleeps in a high hammock its claws look made out of wood and if...
Karen Connelly: The Children

Karen Connelly: The Children

THE CHILDREN I feel them falling out of me, the children, like the passage of stars in the sky, the small fire denied by the fierce rising of the sun, the burning of my own life. They turn their small hands up to me sadly, they don’t know how to cry because they haven’t been...

David McGimpsey: One Poem

I WAS ALWAYS TOLD A POET SHOULD ONLY PUBLISH ONCE A YEAR, ON THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY AND ON THE SUBJECT OF THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY A government program seeks to leave poems in hospital waiting rooms so patients might read them and begin to understand there are worse things than diabetes. When Seamus Heaney passed away,...

Mary Dalton: Two Centos

APPLIQUÉ First having read the book of myths, they had begun to whisper, as imperceptibly as grief. Hearing the judges’ well-considered sentence, the atom bellies like a cauliflower; call it the refrigerator’s hum at night. On the most beautiful day for air strikes the season is called evening. The buildings are at their stations, untimely....

Brecken Hancock: Four Poems

BRECKEN Booze tides me. tv abides me. My tits slung astride me, I noose quiet to lie with me. My other husband’s a broom.   PROGRESSION BLUNTS EMPATHY Hush now, Mama, don’t say a word. Daughter’s gonna drink until you’re cured.   SYMPTOMS INCLUDE DISINHIBITION In lusting after their son, Sandy remembers her husband, young....

Robin Richardson: A Hedgehog in the Kitchen Keeps the Cockroaches at Bay

A HEDGEHOG IN THE KITCHEN KEEPS THE COCKROACHES AT BAY I love your world, he said, just keep it to yourself — I love your mouth. In a Star Wars themed fever dream I saw him lassoed by a solar flare and held there in a warmth I can’t provide. Blue light clicking upon waking,...
Divya Victor: Color: A Sequence of Unbearable Happenings

Divya Victor: Color: A Sequence of Unbearable Happenings

Color: A Sequence of Unbearable Happenings “The story reveals the meaning of what otherwise would remain an unbearable sequence of sheer happenings” — Hannah Arendt, Men in Dark Times 1 It was a nice try. It was a nice move that made the black move to white. A nice move that turned most things away...
Mary Ruefle: Trances of the Blast

Mary Ruefle: Trances of the Blast

Various. Precise. Small openings. A journey from one side of the hour to the other. This is not a review. This is also a movement. Like walking into spring while carrying two small dogs under arm and balancing ice cream cones. I thought, this is a cool noise, like ice cracking under the sand. Or...

Rebecca Olander: Return to Great Meadows: Tracking the Living and the Dead

RETURN TO GREAT MEADOWS: TRACKING THE LIVING AND THE DEAD   One goldfinch feather, veined               color of cosmos, coreopsis, primary shade, the definition of yellow.         Taken as a sign it comes along for the walk around the marsh, the mucky edges,           fallen trees downed for want of firm earth.   At the gaping center,...

Rob Fitterman: No, Wait. Yep. Definitely Still Hate Myself

Not to be found on any Griffin Prize shortlists any time soon, and yet I would argue that so far this is the book of the season. An uncomfortable bulls-eye and an instant conceptual writing classic. Sort of like sticking a taco up my nose while attempting to swim in a puddle.

Geoffrey Morrison: Lungfish

LUNGFISH I broke a roller-skate in the shade behind the cemetery: Gargoyle-grotto of a garbage can, a basketball court, The wool-grey metal backboards streaked with rust. Drifting across the three-point line, last year’s leaves. “Friends, this place bears the curse of Saturn.” And in the tobaccospit ditch, the flicker of a salamander Autumn came, and...

Trish Salah: Eulalia for Mother Night

EULALIA FOR MOTHER NIGHT Saint Able bombs to be a Barcelona called Chloe Saint Sometimes Soon to be Chloe accepted. An actor decides if detours, what’s arrived Are art is lunges male managed mind Student soma asks attitude of spirit birds Susana begs becoming clothes consolidated On experience from a far farm Pretoria painted Older...

Matthew Tierney: Radio Call-In No-Show

RADIO CALL-IN NO-SHOW Our Lady of Perpetual Help has new signage that peddles prayer requests ‘by appointment only.’ Only an atheist would bring up the choice of font. The point at which a passing car’s hubcaps seem to stall, then wheel backwards— that’s when you fall half in love. The tunnel light a stainless steel,...