“Don’t throw your muck in my backyardMy backyard, my backyardDon’t throw your muck in my backyardMy backyard’s full!”(Folk song) Steel toed, standing at the tip,A steady stream of garbage slips,Out of mind, out of sight,Forgotten to our mothers plight. Sneaky humans disguise their toxins,Paint tins and consumer sins,Just tossed,Beside the
writing, art & comics
In their flannel pyjamas The couple stands roadside The school bus pulls up Their small child steps inside a A sure sign of fall The new beginning of a season Where children go to school To grow and learn how to reason On the rural flats of Salmo break Outside
Grief is sticky green, like gum on the bottom of my shoe break Grief is pungent, the stench hanging in the air No escape from its tendrils forever grabbing relentlessly space Grief is a stale sour lemon with mould forming on the edges creeping into my mouth break Grief is
Finding a near quiet place is mostly a case of luck, and when you’ve found it bring a book to fill an afternoon. Drunk finches will doze away the long afternoon and squirrels want their share too. A wind picks up making you hold each page being read. All before
Be free – means not escaping but gathering events until the mind is a place of ruined masterpieces, leading to artwork meadow where paintings lay melting into the wet earth Withstanding, the lack of portals away from confusion. Standing, while the outline of a body houses vision moving I saw
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.
We trust you will enjoy!