Homestead by Rob McLennan

A sheet of ice across the barnyard. The path near the shed: veer left, by the creekbed. Speech is hardly a production. A morning, chops wood. Being a portrait. Revenge is never ordinary: living well. In the hours when light. What communication is like: a basement vault of board games. A small stand of ash trees, a gather of cows. To forget the one thing that is everything. A wicked truth that does no harm.
Born in Ottawa, Canada’s glorious capital city, rob mclennan currently lives in Ottawa, where he is home full-time with the two wee girls he shares with Christine McNair. The author of more than thirty trade books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, he won the John Newlove Poetry Award in 2010, the Council for the Arts in Ottawa Mid-Career Award in 2014, and was longlisted for the CBC Poetry Prize in 2012. In March, 2016, he was inducted into the VERSe Ottawa Hall of Honour. His most recent titles include The Uncertainty Principle: stories, (Chaudiere Books, 2014) and the poetry collection A perimeter (New Star Books, 2016).