National Network for Equitable Library Service

What begins as a look back at a different time in history quickly takes a dark turn in Bob Currie’s latest collection.

While much of small-town living remains the same: farming is always reliant on the weather regardless of new technology, after all, there is a sense of urgency and a need to escape in Chelsea’s poe

Delphine Almquist and her husband Hugo are living the hobby farm life of her dreams on the Canadian Prairies, far from the world of climate change concerns and global conflict.

Where, the Mile End, Irish poet Julie Morrissy's debut collection, embodies an energetic lyricism that whips through Europe and North America with humour, curiosity and a distinct edginess.

The word "magyarAzni" (pronounced MAUDE-yar-az-knee) means "to explain" in Hungarian, but translates literally as "make it Hungarian." This faux-Hungarian language primer, written in direct address

Cho Oh-Hyun was born in Miryang, South Gyeongsang Province, Korea and has lived in retreat in the mountains since becoming a novice monk at the age of seven.

The Duende of Tetherball fearlessly ransacks the scrutinizing role of the past on the present; the interactions and accountabilities of ourselves and other species; the challenges and pleasures of

The poems in this collection originated as a response to Elmore Leonard's "Ten Rules of Writing" and metamorphosed into poetic responses to quotations and epigraphs on a variety of subjects.

Jay Hopler's second collection, a mourning song for his father, is an elegy of uproar, a careening hymn to disaster and its aftermath.

‘All of Nichol’s work is stamped by his desire to create texts that are engaging in themselves as well as in context, and to use indirect structural and textual devices to carry meaning.

something like wait for mein the braille of scarstonight can i suggest a little punctuationcircle half-moon vertical line of astonishmenta pause that transformslight and breath into language a

Croak is a frog-and-girl opera in three parts, played out like a YouTube mashup of mid-century cartoons, all set to a contemporary pop song.

Nothing slips by Brecken Hancock’s deft ear as she seductively plumbs the depths of the evolution of bathing, doppelgängers, the Kraken and the minutiae of family with all its tragic misgivings.

What if the cinema of the present were a Möbius strip of language, a montage of statements and questions sutured together and gradually accumulating colour?

A lyrical wilderness of power, wealth, leisure and desire, the poems of Country Club freewheel across state lines with panache and flagrant feeling.