Archive for April, 2009


Audio: 30 in 30

April 22, 2009

The stalwart lass who runs Seen Reading (of which Bookninja was an early fan) has asked 15 poets to record themselves reading one of their own and a cover for the month of April, providing 30 poets in 30 days. I read “Crosses” from The Rush to Here and Geoffrey Hill’s “September Song” from King Log. My computer apparently can’t make good recordings for the life of it, so I had to get a pal to sneak me into CBC to do it on the sly. Hope you enjoy, and if you haven’t yet, buy The Rush to Here here.


Awards: EJ Pratt Poetry Award

April 9, 2009

The Rush to Here was shortlisted for the EJ Pratt Poetry Prize!

The finalists for the EJ Pratt Poetry Award are:

Randall Maggs for “Night Work: The Sawchuk Poems” (Brick Books, 2008), a collection of conversational poems that follow the tragic trajectory of the life and work of one of hockey’s best goalies.

George Murray for “The Rush to Here” (Nightwood Editions, 2007), poems that combine what the poet calls “thought rhymes” with a structured sonnet form.

Agnes Walsh for “Going Around with Bachelors” (Brick Books, 2007), poems that employ the tang of Newfoundland language to meld the plain with the sophisticated.


Interview: The National Post

April 6, 2009

There’s a brief poetry-month interview with me up at the National Post’s book pages, Afterword. All the poets interviewed in the series so far (Stuart Ross, Anne Simpson, Zach Wells) have been asked the same questions, so you can get a sampling of personality types in the answers.

Who’s your favourite living poet — Canadian or otherwise — and why?

Geoffrey Hill is my favourite poet. He’s an Englishman living in Boston who’s quite possibly the greatest writer in the English language. He’s notoriously difficult and gleefully inaccessible. I find reading his poems like working on tough puzzles. I’m sure I don’t get all of his allusions, but I pride myself on those I do get.

Who’s one poet you pretend to know but in reality have never, ever read?

Ken Babstock (just kidding, Ken).