About the Author

Ingrid Ruthig

Ingrid Ruthig is a writer, editor, artist and former architect whose books include Slipstream (ARKITEXWERKS, 2011), Richard Outram: Essays on His Works (Guernica, 2011), and the chapbook Synesthete II (Littlefishcart Press, 2005). Her writing has appeared across Canada and internationally in publications like The Best Canadian Poetry in English 2012 (Tightrope Books), The Malahat Review, Descant, The Fiddlehead, The New Quarterly and Cordite, among many others. Her award-winning artwork fusing text and image is held in private collections and has been featured in numerous art galleries and festivals. Ruthig lives near Toronto with her family.

Books by this Author
David Helwig

David Helwig

Essays on His Works
edited by Ingrid Ruthig
also available: Paperback
tagged : canadian
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Richard Outram

Richard Outram

Essays On His Works
edited by Ingrid Ruthig
tagged :
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The Essential Anne Wilkinson



The poet's daily chore
Is my long duty;
To keep and cherish my good lens
For love and war
And wasps about the lilies
And mutiny within.

My woman's eye is weak
And veiled with milk;
My working eye is muscled
With a curious tension,
Stretched and open
As the eyes of children;
Trusting in its vision
Even should it see
The holy holy spirit gambol
Lithe and warm as any animal.

My woman's iris circles
A blind pupil;
The poet's eye is crystal,
Polished to accept the negative,
The contradictions in a proof
And the accidental
Candour of the shadows;

The shutter, oiled and smooth
Clicks on the grace of heroes
Or on some bestial act
When lit with radiance
The afterwords the actors speak
Give depths to violence,

Or if the bull is great
And the matador
And the sword
Itself the metaphor.


In my dark room the years
Lie in solution,
Develop film by film.
Slow at first and dim
Their shadows bite
On the fine white pulp of paper.

An early snap of fire
Licking the arms of air
I hold against the light, compare
The details with a prehistoric view
Of land and sea
And cradles of mud that rocked
The wet and sloth of infancy.

A stripe of tiger, curled
And sleeping on the ribs of reason
Prints as clear
As Eve and Adam, pearled
With sweat, staring at an apple core;

And death, in black and white
Or politic in green and Easter film,
Lands on steely points, a dancer
Disciplined to the foolscap stage,
The property of poets
Who command his robes, expose
His moving likeness on the page.

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