Glenn Kubish

Happy end of the week, friends! I remember the Humanities Building on the University of Alberta campus and what Professor Bishop told us there in English 309 on those mornings long ago: go out and notice things and write them down. This week the three things I noticed that made me happy or grateful were more one thing in three stanzas, kinda. Three Things, episode 48 . 1. A quiet house Suddenly, I am awake, and there is no going back. I am in bed, it’s dark. Is it a work day? Or weekend? What time is it? I fish for my phone in the waves of covers and use the twisted earbuds cord to reel it in. I touch the face to get the time. The battery is dead. No music to get back to sleep, either. I am on my own. I brace myself for the usual goblin parade of my mistakes, doubts, regrets and fears to come through the walls. A poem, yes, I will recite a poem to keep the shrieking down! This is when it’s confirmed that, while I love poems, I don’t know them by heart. They’re in books or they’ve been ...

Heaney In a poem whose name I do not remember, Seamus Heaney corrects those, including himself, who would rush to write. The bastion of sensation, he says. Do not waver into language. Do not waver in it.  For Heaney, the bastion of sensation, the room from which he built, was the scullery. Know it cold, he advised.  In our house, the kitchen is the bastion of sensation, and Shelagh is its poet. She knows it cold. I try to protect it by recording her kitchen words. This is the collection to date.  Nothing really smells like brown sugar. Is there anything better than a lime? Is there anything better than a lemon? Is there anything better than an orange? I love parmesan cheese. Look at an onion. Just look at it! I love the smell of cilantro. It's the smell of mushrooms. I have discovered the mushrooms are the key! I love mint. The smell of mint. That's it. Can you smell the squash? It smells great. Wow! Smell that! Fresh...