Toronto's Andrew McEwan presents an accomplished and original debut in Repeater (BookThug, 96 pages, $18). Drawing on the language of computer programming, McEwan translates each letter of the alphabet into the ones and zeroes of binary code, using the number strings as a formal constraint. McEwan also produces poetic appendices to this 26-page poem.
The resulting lines provide a philosophical take on poetry in the digital age. This "poem with computer's rhyme etched as palimpsest" admits that "we shall not succeed in encoding the world" and yet notices deep correlations: "when children create is it through removal or affixation," the poem asks.
Lines like "to build a computer of poems, lied the computer" speak to the uncertainty of our relationships to code, and its generative potential for self-organized permutations. The title poem, "repeater," reads like two entwined poems, gene-spliced to produce strange new monsters.
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Manitoba's Sarah Klassen returns with Monstrance (Turnstone, 118 pages, $17). "The poem is this moment," writes Klassen, and these poems constitute, often explicitly, minor meditations or prayers on topics from faith to nature to art.
Klassen has the ability to move from a simple observation ("Our neighbours have painted their front door / deeply purple") to wide-ranging considerations (tracing "purple" itself, from flowers to the flogging of Jesus to television reports on Rwanda) without appearing overwrought -- although at times, as with that word "deeply," she overstretches.
In other poems, …