Geoffrey Morrison, over at The Rusty Toque, has written a generous review of Arguments For Lawn Chairs. Morrison’s review looks at both my poetry book and David Huebert’s We Are No Longer The Smart Kids In Class. Check it out here!
The good folks at Open Book interviewed me about my poetry collection, Arguments for Lawn Chairs. Read it to find out my thoughts on the importance of titles, and to see some of my newer poem and story titles!
My poetry collection, Arguments for Lawn Chairs, will be launching this Sunday at Supermarket, along with other great books! If you’re in the city, come on out!
Stone Woman by Bianca Lakoseljac
The Sea-Wave by Rolli
Arguments for Lawn Chairs by Aaron Kreuter
Coming Here; Being Here
& A Second Coming ed. Don Mulcahy
Freeze by Stephen Orlov
Sarah & Abraham by Sarah Engelhard
Every Night of Our Lives by Rocco de Giacomo
Date with Destiny by Hélène Rioux trans. Jonathan Kaplansky
Free admission + lots of tasty refreshments!
Date: September 11, 2016
Time: 3:30 PM
Place: Supermarket Restaurant & Bar, 268 Augusta Avenue, Toronto ON M5T 2L9
To welcome my first book of poetry, Arguments for Lawn Chairs, into the world, come on out to the Steady on June 9th, for a night of poetry, music, and celebration!
When: June 9th, 2016, 8:30
Where: The Steady, 1051 Bloor Street West
Poster: See below
Where Has Inky the Octopus Gone?
Or, Animal Intelligence
The question on all our minds:
where has Inky the octopus gone?
Well, Inky’s gone to the Sorbonne.
Inky’s just about finished his Proust.
Inky’s writing a treatise on the nature of time.
Inky just received a SSHRC (Inky’s funding
will be adjusted accordingly).
Inky’s headed towards Jerusalem to resume negotiations.
Inky believes in a binational one-state solution (obviously).
Inky just read sixteen books on ethnic cleansing.
Inky just saw the video on YouTube showing
all the nuclear bombs we’ve set off (so many in the ocean—why?! Why?!).
Inky just learned about factory farms.
Inky’s had enough.
Inky’s decided we’re beyond help.
Inky’s decamped from our front lawn.
So don’t ask where Inky’s at,
because Inky, well, Inky’s gone.