Heather Cadsby : (further) short takes on the prose poem

folio : (further) short takes on the prose poem

 

 

 

 

How to catch flamboyant bohemians

You will need to invest in noisy sheets. The leaf rustle of Belgian linen will alert you to tossing and turning. And, like garden netting used to protect and cover, there will be a temporary reprieve in which to assess and realize you are misled in your search for rhythm in bedding. Your best hope is to find jazz joints frequented by silver-buttoned black satin waistcoats. Silent, sullen and smirking into their poetry and drawings.

 

 

 

9^th floor at 110 St. Clair Avenue

My grandfather was a judge. My mother addressed my postcards to him as His Honour. I was born on his 70^th birthday. His first grandchild. When I was 10 I started having sleepovers at his apartment. I slept on the bed with my grandmother. He slept on the couch. He let me put garbage down the incinerator in the chute just outside his door and I would often hear someone playing a piano in another apartment. One day as my grandfather and I were waiting for the elevator someone came out into the hall. “Good Morning Judge” “And a Good Morning to you, Mr. Gould” 

 

 

 

 

Heather Cadsby is the author of five books of poetry. The most recent is titled Standing in the Flock of Connections (Brick Books, 2018). She is the co-founder with Maria Jacobs of Wolsak and Wynn Publishers.

 

Heather Cadsby : Who is Arthur Ozelins

 

 

 

I have altered (slightly) the spelling of his surname so his grandchildren won’t be embarrassed. My mother’s friend (I forget her name) adopted or sponsored or supported him when he arrived in Canada from Latvia (via Germany). It’s a long story that my mother told me. My mother and her friend would go to hear him play with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. My mother quoted some critic who said, “No one has ever played Rach 3 like Arthur Ozolins.” But here’s the thing. He hated my mother’s friend. Maybe he felt controlled or indebted or intruded upon. She was an older unmarried woman. Maybe she wanted a child. Maybe he was a nasty person. I can’t find out because everyone is dead now: my mother, her friend, Arthur O, his wife, his children. His grandchildren would think I was a crazy person.

 

 

 

 

 

Heather Cadsby is the author of five books of poetry. The most recent is Standing in the Flock of Connections (Brick Books, 2018). In the 1980s along with Maria Jacobs she produced the monthly periodical Poetry Toronto and founded the press Wolsak and Wynn. In recent years she has served as a director of The Art Bar Poetry Series.