T. A. Hunchak is a writer and poet from Edmonton, Alberta. She enjoys studying languages living and dead and exploiting her library job to indoctrinate children with fantasy literature.
We’re almost ready to launch antilang. no. 3 and soundbite vol. 2, which means it’s time for some previews!
Andriana Minou is one of only a few international contributors this time around, but her intense blend of spoken word poetry and rhythmic vocals makes her piece “Lake Labyrinth” the perfect first pick for our winter preview.
Andriana Minou is a writer and musician based in London. Her work as a writer has been included in several anthologies and literary journals in Greece, the UK and the US.
I can still remember as the embers –
like the stars wrapping ‘round the globe –
faded last December.
We were made together, in November,
and I’m reminded of you by the wind;
its seasonal scent carrying you back to me
with hints of nutmeg, vanilla, and cinnamon;
its chill bites me like you did
after I first held close your shivering sleeve;
when it slows, and writhes and wraps ‘round my face –
like you, as our lips met when I tongued at your sweetness.
I’m mulling over my soul – steeping it in solitude –
when they say you’re back in town.
You – with your raw dark spirit and body like cream –
let me breathe you in;
let me drown in you;
let your arousing aromas
turn my lonely haze – If only just for the holidays –
into a dream of love in fog.
… and eggnog.
They can’t see what I see beneath me; marooned & timbered stories.
The sea of history resurfaces, It,
Trauma creaks and seeps and seeks its ghost.
It finds familiar feelings.
Wound in the wound it writhes with time’s tithes – the tides;
the black-bile-mould that festers beneath floorboards that
pours forth from holes in the souls that line these walls
until it touches something – someone warm.
An ember to hold onto to turn house into its home.
But this chill house’s hearth cannot house a lively flame
and so, it smothers shrouded Allison with love beyond the grave.
If you’re in the Calgary area, as one of our illustrious editors and many of our wonderful contributors are, then you know all about the record snowfall we got over the last two days!
Is a tough day of shoveling getting you down, or are you tougher than the weather? Either way, why not take this excuse to curl up with a warm blanket, some cocoa, and Aritha van Herk’s “Tough Girl,” a kindred spirit from antilang. no. 1:
In comforting solidarity, here’s a view from Jordan‘s front door in northern Calgary. Take care, be safe, and keep warm out there!
October is officially here (we know because there’s snow) and that means we’re ready to let you know about our September Patreon contest.
The September contest was inspired by our new logos and required participants to include the following quote from Robert Kroetsch’s novel What the Crow Said:
“And that was the first time the crow spoke… ‘you don’t know your ass from your elbow…’ After that, there was no keeping it quiet” (64).
If you aren’t in the know, we run a monthly flash writing contest for our donors, and then post the winning entries on our blog! Stay tuned for the winning entry– we will be posting it tomorrow! If think these contests are cool and you want to participate, then all you have to do it head over to our Patreon page and sign up to donate $2/ month and you’ll have immediate access to our latest contest (as well as early access to our On Editing blog series and previews for antilang. and soundbite).
In competition for the shortest piece in soundbite vol. 1, Lissa McFarland reads her poem about raking leaves (something a lot of us can relate to this season, as long as the snow holds off). You can find her other poem “05.02.18” about spring flowers in soundbite and her creative non-fiction/prose-poem “04.26.17” on page 64 of antilang. no. 2.
Zelda Baiano was, we’re proud to say, our very first fan–the first person who isn’t a personal friend or family member to really take notice and give us lots of virtual love on social media. So we’re equally proud to publish this emerging Canadian poet with “Unchained Melody” in soundbite (she also has another poem, “Intimacy,” on page 40 of antilang. no. 2).Zelda Baiano is currently studying English Literature and Language at Brock University in Southern Ontario. She has been previously published in two anthologies, The Night’s Voice, and Fresh Ink 2016.