Brendan McLeod is an award-winning poet, theatre creator, and musician. On his sixth day of social isolation, he started writing a poem a day. We’re posting these day by day, in non-sequential order, because time is weird now. It’ll be a book after that.

Poet In (Their Own) Residence

Day 42-43

BRENDAN MCLEOD

I've never wanted a family.

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Day 57

BRENDAN MCLEOD

Can we all agree the scientist who named their wasp discovery murder hornet must have slayed at the yearly convention?

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Day 47

BRENDAN MCLEOD

I don’t know how the mind decides which memory to ship across the ocean of consciousness, or when to do it, or why, but it does.

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Day 19-20

BRENDAN MCLEOD

Some shithead in the park won’t stop playing bongos.

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Day 56

BRENDAN MCLEOD

  This essay was published on CBC's website, as part of Brendan's segment on "Now or Never" about his pandemic poems. To hear his interview go HERE  I don’t remember the first poem I ever performed. The adrenaline knocked me for a loop. What I can recall is how vividly I perceived reactions from the audience. Someone lifted an eyebrow and my heart leapt. Someone else looked away, down at the table, and I was crushed. I got one laugh and it felt like I was flying. It was like being in that slow motion scene in The Matrix, but instead of bullets it...

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