Good news!
Ottawa poet, publisher and former Blackmax Quartet drummer Cameron Anstee has graciously reviewed the Odourless fall 2011 catalogue for the Ottawa Poetry Newsletter.
Thanks Cameron! We certainly agree that “there is a whole lot to like here, and no excuse not to buy them all.”
Anyone interested in review copies should feel free to email us.
Ottawa residents should tune into 93.1 FM tomorrow evening at 6:30 for Literary Landscape, where Odourless authors Jeff Blackman and Ben Ladouceur will be reading from their upcoming Odourless Press chapbooks. We’ll also have a treat for the audiophiles out there: we’ll be playing tracks by Herb Alpert, Sufjan Stevens and others on vinyl!
Anyone outside Ottawa can listen online through the CKCU website or visit Odourless Press the next day when the show will be available for download as a podcast.
And if you’re listening in, why not donate a hearty, tax-deductible sum to CKCU for keeping it real and real free for over 35 years.
Odourless Press - Fall 2011 Chapbook # 2
From: Alert by Ben Ladouceur (AngelHousePress, 2009)
_
Resolute
into you I shove planets, semen and vinegar
bones of Canadian dinosaurs
this, this, this is most definitely
the nadir of your gingery bright body
I’ll admit that I have dreamt you as a seed, small
endemic thirsty edible thing
your shabby husk
left behind: if I have before been this much
of a lover I have forgotten it, have eaten every crumb of it:
tolerable unguent and puddles of bilge-water form shapes
for brisk perusal, for my heart and cartographer:
to unfold you, to memorize your capital cities
is like soups of Hanoi, coffees of Kigali
or songs from the sixteen-hundreds
do not sleep or at least give me adjectives first:
is it quiet? is it cold? if so,
pay no mind: there is no word
for how little mind you ought to pay
From: Lime Kiln Quay Road by Ben Ladouceur (above/ground press, 2011).
_
from Lime Kiln Quay Road
There was a rock rumoured to grow
one inch every year.
It was a letdown.
The heath once housed
a witch
but then they built the church
so she became some nightjars
and took off.
It’s something we do
in the countryside.
We don’t grow a great deal
and depart
when the birds we’re made of
have had enough.
