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Archive for April 15th, 2009

Toronto, Ontario

The Stone House

House whose walls are cut from the crust of the earth

pre-cambrian ossuary for farmers

resurrected from the tatters of neglect

you were built on the quiet land before

cars made distances nothing

your stones worn soft by prevailing winds

darkened to ochre and charcoal by rain

catching a glimpse of your welcome lights

when walking the fields

on drizzle darkened autumn evenings

or your grey-yellow stones through

summer’s heavy trees

means the house forms its word

around a meaning of home

blissful centering that promises belonging

house that will soothe city-tense psyche

shield me from the larger world

here is a softness that protects

small light and quietness in winter

cool breezes and gentle scents in summer

house, you are rock risen and hewn

older than time shaped

in the cradle of your history I have found my home.


Jill Battson is an internationally published poet and poetry activist. She has been widely featured in literary journals and anthologies in North America and the UK and she has performed her work around the globe. Her first book Hard Candy was nominated for the Gerald Lampert Award.


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Toronto, Ontario

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TODAY

Today there is no:
hope
mail
money
wine
Today there is some:
nothing
pity
pasta
staleness
Today is not
my day
my mood
my ground
Today Is
by all means
before tomorrow
and after something.
Today is Here.
And does not intend to
leave so easily.
Today one should not:
worry
plan
etcetera
Today one should
grieve
Today cannot
be postponed
be ignored
not be compared
Today you can:
lie the day through
bear with
drink through
That’s how it is
today
And tomorrow?
It is yesterday’s
name for Today


Zarko Samouk born in Rijeka, former Yugoslavia, in 1967. Until the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina I lived in Sarajevo, where I graduated from the Faculty of Biology. I also worked as a reporter for “Walter” weekly, and was contributing to the “Pop-Rock” music magazine.

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Toronto, Ontario

‘Technology is the knack of arranging the world so we don’t have to experience it.’

Author Unknown

Me and My machines

Me and my machines

Mocking my tendons

My arms and my knees

Molding my visionsme-and-my-machines-with-nik-beat

My reveries my dreams

Manufacturing my music

My food my friends

Me and my machines

Make my weather

My sexual fatalities

My toast my tea

My machines wake me up

My machines take me to work

My machines make me up

For the company that

Never arrives


Nik Beat

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