Maureen N. McLane

a dead queen a red kingan orange polis crashwhere is the high styleo poet the republic requires& where the Polish heroes& can the heroic be generalcommunal asks the engorgedpopulace we we we wewe don’t need another herodischarge justice charge the worlda place making

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disenthrone the reigning Xsuffer the...

Late​ in Claire-Louise Bennett’s novel Big Kiss, Bye-Bye, the unnamed protagonist goes to Montevideo to participate in a ‘panel discussion about violent scenes from movies’. She had hesitated to accept the invitation:

I avoid as much as possible celluloid depictions of violent behaviour for the reason that it unnerves and depresses me gravely to be confronted by the...

morning mist and cloudfaint on the mountaina god is moving his faceover the waters a godin the cleft in the pass up theghyll the scramblers maketheir way also up –yesterday     ||     in the beginningthey told a story about glaciers& granite and later glassand grottos and gone nowthe volcanic surge coringthe apple the earthyou are finding a way by...

Walt Whitman​ was a great recycler. He composts himself at the end of ‘Song of Myself’: ‘I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,/If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.’ Leaves of Grass became his lifelong project, expanding over decades. ‘Song of Myself’ appeared in all editions, pipped from the lead as he wrote...

It is time to consult my friendsthe historians who still believein research and a tapestry of factwoven on the loom of deliberationand hypotheticals testedagainst what are perceivedto be outcomes. It is timeto remember the oneswho never abandonedthe way to carefor the dead the oneswho said not only my deadand not only the official deadmatter amidst all the matter.

What’s the...