Wednesday, April 12, 2006

FOUR POEMS by rob mclennan


cut a hole in the drywall & the wind

of paper (stolen) boxes through cold & in the summer nothing

intimation the sincerest form of flattery





it cant be that hard
, curious

a fly-wheel, flown

of the plant-bath
, company


all that there is, a spectral
foot long cloud

, amorphous

, hour is

hat on the head

a very thunder clap & claim
, without them

when all the old okeefe centre
on scott

I bet you dont remember

, railroad

Born in Ottawa, rob mclennan currently lives in Ottawa. The author of twelve trade poetry collections including name , an errant (Stride, 2006) and aubade (Broken Jaw Press, 2006), his poetry, fiction and critical work has appeared in a dozen countries and in three languages. A collection of essays will appear in fall 2007 with ECW Press. He regularly posts reviews, essays and other nonsense on his