The world sometimes is a big wet dog shaking itself, the wag of trees,
the slobber of clouds. The little bark of bad news, of illness. We wanted to push it
off our lap, command it to sit, to stay. Obey, obey.

Sue Goyette, “Disrupted”

It should also be illegal for young persons to be present either at iambics or comedies before they are arrived at that age when they are allowed to partake of the pleasures of the table

Aristotle, Politics

for a city is a number of people not accidentally met together, but with a purpose of ensuring to themselves sufficient independency and self-protection

Aristotle, Politics

She can’t see them,
on painting my hills
in shades of British green.
They’re everything but! I snap
Try purple! Try yellow! Try red!

She’s drenched in green,
bewitched by it. Her eyes
drip curtains of tree colour.
When I am being kind, I think
she’s either blind
or homesick.

Kate Braid, Inward to the Bones, a collection of poems which takes the fact of a meeting between Georgia O’Keeffe and Emily Carr and turns it into a whole adventure where they visit, and paint, the two places most important to them both: New Mexico and British Columbia.

sir richard manuel died a lousy death hanging there cold as a fish
I can’t explain it just listen to any of his songs just listen to how pure and sad a man’s voice can be when he wants paradise but his arms aren’t long enough
some voices belong to everyone

Patrick Friesen, “an audience with the dalai lama or, the old-fashioned pas de deux”

I have watched
the city from a distance at night
and wondered why I wrote no poem.

William Carlos Williams, “To A Friend Concerning Several Ladies”