Salt

April 2018

Luminescent Limbs by Vanessa Iddon

It doesn’t seem fair
To call it “New” or “Found”
When its been waiting
With weathered salted wisdom
For as long as dark rocks
have held line after line
Of tumbling wave
Most of us are settlers
Though some of us don’t settle well
Even still, the windy weathered doorways
And greasy slush
Have a way of calling
A people together
The kind of love here
Is a gentle in hardness
The humour in climbing narrow high pathways
— in too much cold — in too late a hour
The tipple-tipping hill echoing
Kind of love
On the days that are too big to hold
Because the crashing in our chest makes islands
We turn them out
To lichens in starlight
Our gnarled green spray land
And call it home

Slowly Through the Fog Forest

BY Laura Temple

There are times in all our lives when perspective takes a jarring shift, sudden moments when a new truth is lit up under fluorescent, operating room-quality light, like a flashing neon sign, or a moose illuminated in headlights.

Summer NQ is out now!

BY NQ

  Our summer issue is on stands already. Now if only the sun would make an appearance! The theme is Music and the cover is by Noah Jake Bender. With…

Writing Wanda Jaynes

BY Bridget Canning

PREVENTATIVE CANCER surgery, Kathy Dunderdale’s twitter account, and mass shootings as regular news: these random happenings came together to shape the idea of The Greatest Hits of Wanda Jaynes. Wanda Janynes’ unlikely heroism and its personal fallout took shape only as I drew connections between those three things.