Pride

By Inge Moore   When i am seventeen, I know three things: 1) i will never get married, 2) i will never leave my best friend, and 3) i will never grow old. I am living in Toronto it is the summer i am working at Woodbine. My best friend and i share a basement …

Loon Call at Owl-light

By Carrie Connel-Gripp He was glad of his freedom, but the events of the past year left him brooding.  Contemplating what he should do and where he should go only brought a swamping uncertainty.  He could drown here just as well as somewhere else. There was nowhere he called home. He had gravitated to the …

Art By Mikhail Shchupak-Katsman

  MIKHAIL SHCHUPAK-KATSMAN DESIGNER - ARTIST, OCAD UNIVERSITY UNDERGRADUATE As a designer as well as an artisan, I’ve honed my skills towards working with and understanding three-dimensional spaces and forms. I have a passionate drive for architecture, and the innovative ways in which it can create a more sustainable, ergonomic world to live in.

Poems by Bruce McRae

"Dreams Are For Dreamers" This old bed has seen better days and told different stories. This old bed resembles a sack of broken clothes hangers. As far as portals into sleep go this bed has went. I’m on the rack. It’s the iron maiden. This old bed is an early grave, but death won’t sleep …

The Real McCoy

By Ryan Quinn Flanagan   The Real McCoy   was named Elijah   invented the ironing board and the modern lawn sprinkler   and no one could do it better   or cared because he was Canadian   which is a nice way of saying thanks   but no thanks   when it matters.

Formalehyde

By Ryan Quinn Flanagan you begin to wonder why life happens at all   when death is   so easy. Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such …

Free Falling

By Åsa Muckosky   We’re on our way to the Vancouver airport and Tom Petty’s song “Free Fallin” comes on the radio. This is no coincidence. I’ve been hearing it all weekend in my head. My husband and I are on our way back home from a whirlwind weekend trip of shopping for property in Salmon …

Imagine

By Ryan Quinn Flanagan my surprise when the pigeons at my feet squabble over a single spent shoelace with no nutritional value and the guy who shoulders me and walks right through the metal detector of my back throws up his arms absently and keeps going as if to say he is sorry when he …