Silkdream by James Dunnigan

see how that spider

weaves its hanging home

over our bed


would we could stretch

a place to live out of

ourselves like that


if I could weave you

such a place to be

(to be—that threadbare


verb) whatever corner

you might choose

over whatever space


to wring the dew

the dust like that hang out

the morning’s lines


or if I for myself

could weave a little place

all gossamer in rooms


you go to now as yet

unseen to be with you

if only so


transparently around

what surer scheme

or livingplace


could either of us have

what other space

but specsized


emptiness in this

winking moteworld

could hold


the strands of us


James Dunnigan is a poet from Montreal, editor for Cactus Press and PhD student at the University of Toronto, the author of two chapbooks, The Stained Glass Sequence (Frog Hollow Press chapbook award, 2019) and Wine and Fire (Cactus Press 2020). A recipient of a QWF Fiction award for 'Open Bay' (2014), he also has appeared, or is forthcoming in, such places as Event, Contemporary Verse 2, Maisonneuve and Graphite Publications. Aut facere scribenda aut scriber legenda since 1994.

39 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Sand by Jerome Ramcharitar

1. Dreams deep enough have an infinite echo, as if the time within them borrows from other lives, or that the forgotten worlds between one's waking hours cumulate like layers of sand beaten by the wav

Grandmother by Jerome Ramcharitar

I am with her and beside her and away from myself. Like Victoria Beach sand, the diner is loosely packed. Through the glass, I see myself, still barely more than a teen. We dine quietly. She smiles an

Dad's Dream by Bryan Sentes

A winter highway in Saskatchewan (like some scene out of Fargo) A car in the ditch He opens the trunk and sees himself dead A questionably conventional biographical sketch might read as follows. Bryan

©2019 by Cactus Press. Proudly created with Wix.com

Desert Line Icons by Vecteezy