rob mclennan
Contributions

Born in Ottawa, Canada’s glorious capital city, rob mclennan currently lives in Ottawa. The author of more than twenty trade books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, his most recent titles are the poetry collections Songs for little sleep, (Obvious Epiphanies, 2012), grief notes: (BlazeVOX [books], 2012), A (short) history of l. (BuschekBooks, 2011), Glengarry (Talonbooks, 2011) and kate street (Moira, 2011), and a second novel, missing persons (2009). An editor and publisher, he runs above/ground press, Chaudiere Books (with Jennifer Mulligan), The Garneau Review (ottawater.com/garneaureview), seventeen seconds: a journal of poetry and poetics (ottawater.com/seventeenseconds) and the Ottawa poetry pdf annual ottawater (ottawater.com). He spent the 2007-8 academic year in Edmonton as writer-in-residence at the University of Alberta, and regularly posts reviews, essays, interviews and other notices at robmclennan.blogspot.com.

The learning curve that sometimes manages, itself

for Pearl Pirie,

There are these things that are
important to me and they speak of
how all is not right with the world
yet still all is right.
       Juliana Spahr, Fuck You-Aloha-I Love You



1.

The gathering place of something, we. I can’t recall. It was I who called, who called, who.

Watch the moon, full, you must. You must, we. We are watching the full moon, full of
something. Was full, of only, possibly ourselves. Only full.

We are watching the moon we were.


2.

This gathering, place. We gather, stand only in place. We, hurriedly, walk. We run over to,
stand. We stand over. We.

Stood to fall, fully. You fell. You were standing, a staid. Stayed, there on the floor. You
stood there, lying down. You took it. Lying there, prone.

He stood by the stand. Stand, would walk. Hurriedly.


3.

Was contemplating an action. In, action. Inaction. We were, contemplating, we. Action. We
were simply, in. This was, simply. This simply, was.

Staging, an action. Compelled, and dried. Over, we.

Not every inaction.



Call and answer: crush, unnumbered,

for Lea Graham,

Your sentences chopped
like telegraphs, stop.
       Marcus McCann, Soft where



1.

Puzzle out, a lick. Or say whatever, is. Ambient noise, a dreamy dream. Recounted.
Rubbernecking, paralyzed in trees. Supplied, vocabulary. Bruise, a humble. Astonishing.

What coined a little prayer. A gnostic coil, crush. This alchemy.

Wouldn’t, trouble. Bells, in their dissent. A nimble, energetic. An equilibrium. Laid out, on
the floor.

Demarcates, a perfect lap. Precisely, messenger to asphalt. This ripen, void. Goes far beyond
occasion. A small, alien focus.

Years, was one. We learned vitality. A fabric of uncertain, sleep.


2.

Said, falling from this height. When you said, late.

Small consequence of, light. Sightline, and a crooked mouth. Lavender, and rigorous
honesty. The dirt, no camoflauge.

Could ask you, what aloud. Gnomish, conjoined. Emit, let loose, a gainsay. Rocks along the
flay, crush. Had heard the telephone ring, in hours. Where, we listen. Stencil. An era, what
the heart sprung.

Hang in there, as lungs. Examine, subatomic seas. Overcome, we get the better of.

Architecture. Back there to the beginning. Everyone, lightheaded.