A compilation of poetry collections recommended by LGBTQA+GTA interviewees Audre Lorde, The Collected Poems Billy-Ray Belcourt, This Wound is a World Brian Dedora, A Few Sharp Sticks Chrystos, Fire Power Dionne Brand, No Language is Neutral Edna St. Vincent Millay, Collected Sonnets of Edna St. Vincent Millay Essex Hemphill, Ceremonies Gwen Benaway, Holy Wild Hafiz, The Divan of Hafiz June Jordan, Directed By Desire: The Collected Poems of June Jordan Kevin Simmonds, Mad for Meat
BÄNOO ZAN The Land of Orange Blossoms * You journey to me I circle your squarelike a pilgrim farewellto Kaaba Your womenin farmers’ market sell me herbs of memoryin floral dresses I’m a babyat their breasts drinking the milk of blood letting go of water Your mentoil in fields ofabundance smelling the difference between rice and books Relatives take me inknowing I’m notone of them Friends keep me aliveto confront them After all these yearsyou
KAMILA RINA Imprints Last night, my ass pressed against the sink, the dish drainer rattling behind me, my teeth against your shoulders, your arm holding me up, my skirt pushed up past my hip on one side, the fingers of your other hand moved inside me in an elegant dance. Like ballet underwater, the steps fanned out in all directions: point up, reach deep, tug forward toward my pubic bone, twist and turn, sweep to
KIRBY 3:52 PM It’s Wednesday(all this time thought it was Tuesday) adult peeps just off N. Sylvanialast booth on the right ajar construction worker tank jeans wide opencock juts out rigid hard raging lit by moaning straight porn breathtaking says nothing smokes transfixed on screen pretendsthey don’t see me enter kneel stare weep wonder imaginebefore god almighty living god in your mouthyour all of you given over to your godno holding back
KHASHAYAR MOHAMMADI Pillow’s Kiss (excerpted from Moe’s Skin) Pillow’s kiss past midnight’s stroke and doze down the fugueof highway tunes. Up, up and away — past mall-lit windows wemigrate between, bootleg DVDs and cider house blues wherehatred blossoms in plastic-bagged opacity, past the hooka-smokinggirls lustfully eyeing lustful men in blue.Feel like a god, but slip on Moe’s Skin.A new motto for massage chair afternoons:“Don’t frown! You’ll slip.”A single leaf behind an iPod case;a Djinn in
TANIS FRANCO I Regret My Actions Up Until Now I rescheduled too many times but I actuallydo like you. This night is reminding methat I want to get over my avoidantnature. Something about those steely cloudsoutside, the fact that my roses have persistentpests, and the man who shot people justhaving an ordinary dinner on the Danforthlast night. We were going to have dinnerthis week. Today, my perfect bedroom rugwas delivered and it stood outside in
In 2019, CAROUSEL interviewed five writers whose origins spanned the globe, whose ages straddled generations, whose writing practices crossed genres and genders, but who were all akin insofar as they were then at work making queer poetry in the GTA. The essay based on those interviews appeared in full in CAROUSEL 42, our winter 2019/20 print issue. What follows is an abridged and lightly edited version of that essay. How do you know whether the