Published on Mondays, with columns by Artists and Writers
Published since 2002, an Ocean and Pounds publication
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by Cem Turgay


The Photograph
coordinated by Kamelia Pezeshki

The bouquet, Scattered series by Kamelia Pezeshki

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by Kai Chan

"Family Tie #26" 1995, button, string, nail

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Twenty Twenty
an exhibition of recent work by Kai Chan

September 18 to October 2, 2021
on wall at 50 Gladstone (open to public by appointment only)
inquiry: mail@oceanpounds.com

All exhibits are also available for online acquire at https://oceanpounds.com
(launched on September 18, 2021, at 5 pm, Eastern Time)

A 48 pages exhibition catalogue will be officially launched on the first day of the exhibition.
This print-on-demand publication is available to order NOW from BLURB.
(CAD $25, plus tax and shipping).

Print-on-demand publication released by OCEAN POUNDS is available at 50 Gladstone Avenue (no shipping fee). inquiry: mail@oceanpounds.com






Poem a Week
by Gary Michael Dault



when what
you are following
ceases to be
how sad how sad
to lose
what you never had
you try to build
a palace
then a domain
then someone makes
a revolution
kicking birds with their feet
darkening the street
your room
is furnished
your room
is bare
there is a table
sometimes a chair
though neither are
really usefully there

there is a brazen head
to watch for television
the window
on the world
feels cold
now that
you’re studying
being old
living in a necropolis
of tarnished gold
unable to scale
the fold


DOUBLE DOUBLE issue 0910-2021

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Holly Lee - NIGHT OWL SONATA (in one movement) “Seeing beauty in a storm…) / Lee Ka-sing - Twenty four recent photographs

by Madeleine Slavick 思樂維

A bit of Hong Kong landed
in my town.

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From the Notebooks (2010-2021)
by Gary Michael Dault

From the Notebooks, 2010-2021.
Number 102: Necrophilia, September 11, 2021.

Caffeine Reveries
by Shelley Savor


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Some Trees
by Malgorzata Wolak Dault

Number 92

Antonio Gaudi, when asked who had been his best teacher replied: "a tree".

Travelling Palm Snapshots
by Tamara Chatterjee

Madagascar (March, 2010) – After a full day of new adventures (with feet planted on earth versus the sea legs aboard a boat) and an entourage of little ones circling around, I finally mustered the courage to say 'au revoir'. I left the last of the home visits to cumulate more memories, but I find the nostalgia of that particular day still marks me in profound ways. It continues to encourage hope and excitement towards fresh travels to remote parts of our beautiful world, to rendezvous with new souls and collect new life altering experiences.

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by Fiona Smyth

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Leaving Taichung Station
by Bob Black

ボケット:  Boketto

(letters to a wife, found in a box)

"He knew nothing to do but inhabit the paradoxes."--William McIlvanney

Letter 6

Dear Beloved,

Body as language and the continent of wielded words surrounding as left a divestiture
Worlds alight here along the cars of st claire
My looming along the spine of Formosa
Call the rhyme, clack the crack in the tea cup

This is the season when folk weight themselves down by the gifts they carry and i watch them as i gambol through the rain and think thus:
The tug inside my fame and carriage you created in a dollar-less giving, without expending accounts, and which does not weigh down but bullys gravity and i am aflight from that.
Bagless, i am electric from that gift that marks my walking, invisibly.
To find purchase in the weight of free arms because you gifted me with wonder that cannot be purchased nor pitched into a clever, seasonal shopping bag

Carapace and Movement
Suddenly (once i scribbled long ago),
winter (now the autumnal light) broke through my window
(now along the fickle length of my arm)
as if a phone call in the den of night
and pried my bones (android digits) from the fat caging my heart,
and you were there:
sea and voice and suddenly
11 time zones away, you awoke me.
Your voice, all Nemo and bubble and 10,000 leagues afar,
is enough to cadence this:
the stones may gravel and the machinations of our jobs (stilted maths)
may fuck us,
but we shall not resist the simpler thing:
You carry a bucket of light in your voice and the sea grows wide from
The grist of the moving of place, of boxes felled by time and imprint,
the rattle in the carrying that reminds, the upland, the stains,
the spider newspaper printing along the corner of a poem once thought sent:
the webs in the corner, the wash and the light at the end of the throat.
This call our Archimedes, that shall be our Orion.
And there is no app that can replace that, no code, no nimble mind,
the 1's and 0's nothing compared with the shape of voice cascading,
the tiger run around the tree, and we shaped into butter.

You shaped me into life, blooming.


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(Breakfast area and small shop)

Located on the second floor of an art space, INDEXG Bed and Breakfast has 4 guest rooms, all with ensuite bathroom. Since 2008, INDEXG B&B have served curators, artists, art-admirers, collectors and professionals from different cities visiting and working in Toronto.

50 Gladstone Ave, Toronto

ISSN 1918-6991
Published on Mondays, with columns by Artists and Writers
Published since 2002, an Ocean and Pounds publication


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