On your way to be stuck in traffic No escape by the Riverside Headed home just drove past it Chasing dolls on White Rock tides Drop your dream in the mail then hurry Richmond Post for your Russian bride Mayor’s rant of a Fleetwood foot rub Over the protests where
What peaches and penumbras, Allan!Arrayed so gallantly against the meekTowing tonkas en train de bruit, perforce toAlert the sheep to the falling of the sky.What courage and costume, man!Perching primly, tweeting in treacherous shriek.Yet transparent in their hoarse bleating, by the by.
I was the household dishwasher from an early age, pulling my weight you could say. Scrubbing dishes after a meal, cleaning up after my family. My favourite part was always putting dishes away exactly how they should be. It brought a strange sense of glee to have control over this
Remember our glory days when the world was fresh with possibility? It was a springtime of the spirit. In fact, it was spring. You and I were just two drops of rain, and we felt like we could fall forever. The world was our sky and the sky was our
Georgia stood in the parking lot of the Johnson Street shelter, her black beret snugged down over her ears, her gloved hands holding a basket of homemade muffins nestled in a gingham napkin, and looked around at the two dozen or so homeless people on the sidewalk. Temporarily displaced
The people of Heoldel were precociously superstitious. They knew to cover their mirrors after sunset so as not to be pulled in and replaced by their mimicking reflections. To not gaze upon the moon when with child, lest it be born wolfish or malformed. And to hide and hang iron
Trigger warning: racist characters The Speeding Ticket As Derek stood in the road, waiting for the officer to finish writing the ticket, he reflected somberly on his day. If only he had taken the interstate instead of cutting through the countryside on the backroads! Then he wouldn’t have been pulled
Defiantly, there grew a lily surrounded by a sea of morning glory it sprouted from soils fertilized with a falsity of promises wept Their violent waves splash at its stalk their twisting vines strangle up its stem. There no longer grew a lily, instead replaced by homogenized
The red half-moon falls in my bath water like dry peony petals from late June. A gold crescent appears for the daughter. I stir my tea, thrice, with a silver spoon. Warm droplets coat my tongue like the sun’s embrace Chamomile, lavender, creamed honey. Shadows swallow a choking maiden’s grace.
This publication is the result of collaboration between students and faculty of the School of University Arts & Sciences and the School of the Arts at Selkirk College. Submissions are published online throughout the year and selected works are compiled into a print magazine once per year.
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