Steve McOrmond

Blue and white patterned ceramic teapot in the shape of an octopus with head to the right and legs to the left

Octopus Teapot by Japanese ceramic artist Keiko Masumoto #womensart

Succession The seasons falter as we do. They come with uncertain certainties. Intention shows but it's always as if they were new and before they learn the work, it's another season anyway.

William Bronk, born on this day in 1918

EARTHLY FAILURE The copier grew tired of copying, made a terrible, sick sound and died. I told my friends the poem was blurry because the copier wept while reading it. That poem ruined the world, it made everyone shy. Now I've ruined the poem, there's nothing left but a knight sticking his sword in a snail.

Another poem from Mary Ruefle's Dunce (2019)

Extreme Cold Warning

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Another -21C morning in Toronto

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-20 Celsius Morning, Toronto

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The Sky This Morning

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West

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The Oldest Living Thing in L.A. At Wilshire & Santa Monica I saw an opossum Trying to cross the street. It was late, the street Was brightly lit, the opossum would take A few steps forward, then back away from the breath Of moving traffic. People coming out of the bars Would approach, as if to help it somehow. It would lift its black lips & show them The reddened gums, the long rows of incisors, Teeth that went all the way back beyond The flames of Troy & Carthage, beyond sheep Grazing rock-strewn hills, fragments of ruins In the grass at San Vitale. It would back away Delicately & smoothly, stepping carefully As it always had. It could mangle someone's hand In twenty seconds. Mangle it for good. It could Sever it completely from the wrist in forty. There was nothing to be done for it. Someone Or other probably called the LAPD, who then Called Animal Control, who woke a driver, who Then dressed in mailed gloves, the kind of thing Small knights once wore into battle, who gathered Together his pole with a noose on the end, A light steel net to snare it with, someone who hoped The thing would have vanished by the time he got there.

Larry Levis

Sunrise, North Vancouver

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Four Poems Founded in 2012 by Dallas Hudgens, Relegation Books works to connect readers and writers on a smaller, more intimate scale, understanding that success isn't always measured by sales numbers.

"It was like there
was music going on, like a soundtrack,
but when I focused it was just
the humidifier coughing."

#TodaysPoem #poetry
Elegy by Stuart Ross (@razovsky.bsky.social) (2025 Relegation Books)

Sunrise, North Vancouver

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The Great Beyond

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Jericho Beach, Vancouver

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Sunset, Ambleside Beach, West Vancouver

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Poetry chapbook Jacaranda Trees, Mexico City by Steve McOrmond sits atop a notebook with an ornate gold cover, with a black pen nearby

Handwritten transcription of a selection from Jacaranda Trees, Mexico City by Steve McOrmond (Baseline Press)

Close-up of handwritten transcription of a selection from Jacaranda Trees, Mexico City by Steve McOrmond (Baseline Press)

"The neighbour's
balcony dog, a bullmastiff, barks at passersby,
rains down slobber from above."

#TodaysPoem #poetry
from Jacaranda Trees, Mexico City by @stevemcormond.bsky.social (2025 Baseline Press) www.baselinepress.ca#/jacaranda-t...

Predawn, Toronto

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Winter Sunrise

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Stuck (Colours of Late Autumn)

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THE COMING OF LIGHT Even this late it happens: the coming of love, the coming of light. You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, sending up warm bouquets of air. Even this late the bones of the body shine and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.

Mark Strand, with the Hanukkah content we all need right now.

Before Sunrise (Sky over Lake Ontario)

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Blocks

#photograph #photography #gentrification #demolition #GTA #Toronto

Untitled

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Demolition

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The Day After

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Sunrise over Lake Ontario

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Predawn

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Snow

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To try, like Descartes, to determine whether there are animals on the moon, how avalanches work, and the structure of snowflakes. To be suspicious of anyone who claims to only want to do you good. To seek the intelligence of secrecy rather than that of clarity. Without really knowing what that means. To be guided in all endeavors by Bismarck’s maxim: In politics, as in everything else, follow the straight path because you’re sure to have it all to yourself.

Pascalle Monnier, tr. Cole Swensen

Rough winds do shake

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