. David Sherman Yes, t'is a beautiful game. Perhaps first played before the technology of clocks that stop and start, hence the concept of “extra time.” All part of the beauty. You get to guess how many minutes are left in the game. As, it would appear, do the players and the announcers. It might have to do with the last time the ref hit the urinal but guessing is part of the beauty. As are pink shoes. It was decided by the five or six shoe providers that it was important f

Contributed by Quebec poet Barb Kelly. First published in Encore Poetry’s “In Dialogue” issue. All trails still lead to that room* its knotty-pine walls and coffee table full of crackers and cheese, chips and drinks, the aunts and uncles, settled on couches. We’d skied across the top of the hills, through late-day shadows, feeling the chill, then

Certain kinds of information seem impossible to encounter at the speed they actually arrive. The Google search engine offers them with the same mechanical composure whether it is providing the operating hours of the nearest Canadian Tire store or informing you that someone who once occupied the emotional centre of your life has tripped the light fantastic. The medium has no concept of proportion. It has only retrieval. So you type a name almost absentmindedly. Or perhaps not