To follow up on the last post: I swung by the offices of Coach House Books today, to exchange a misprinted copy of Prismatic Publics: Innovative Canadian Women's Poetry and Poetics (it happens!). Outside the office there is a poem by bpNichol engraved into the cement. Except it has gotten warmer recently, and the snow has melted, so all the letters were filled in. It was lovely. It had become one of mARK oWEns's puddle poems, but inside-out. (And sorry I was I did not have a camera.)



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