Published on Mondays, with columns by Artists and Writers
Published since 2002, an Ocean and Pounds publication
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The Photograph
coordinated by Kamelia Pezeshki

Untitled by Kamelia Pezeshki

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Poem a Week
by Gary Michael Dault


I love luggage
I dote upon
the handbag, the valise
the streamer trunk
the backpack
I do not fear
the violence of travel
not when it
takes me by surprise
I abase myself
before my carry-on
with the pressings
of my stationary days
I follow my luggage
like a dog
tracking a biscuit
I am
a travel jellyfish
to a journey's sharkish
my bags are packed
with slow delirium
my heart is bound
only by mileage
some glistening
sweet-smelling mileage
the cases on my doorstep
waiting for the limo
are the syntax of travel
crimped by silence
until the limo doors
open like a crow's wings
and my luggage
spirals into
the bravado of going
taking me with it

The Diary of Wonders by Tomio Nitto
Exhibition catalogue
with writings by Holly Lee
captions by Lee Ka-sing and Holly Lee
8×10 in, 20×25 cm, 
80 pages, softcover, perfect binding
Isbn: 9781989845172
Published by OCEAN POUNDS
CAD $40 (plus tax and shipping)

This publication is available for Orders at BLURB



by Madeleine Slavick 思樂維

wet geometry

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DOUBLE DOUBLE issue 1015-2021

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CONTENTS: The space at 50 Gladstone / 60 Wonders, a prose by Holly Lee / Ka-sing’s photographs on Kai Chan's exhibition - Twenty Twenty

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

From the Notebooks, 2010-2021.
Number 107: Tabletop Ubu,  August 28, 2013

Eighty Two Photographs
a book of recent work by Lee Ka-sing
8×10 in, 20×25 cm
180 pages, softcover, perfect binding
Isbn: 9781989845189
Published by OCEAN POUNDS
CAD $70 (plus tax and shipping)

This book is available for Orders at BLURB


Travelling Palm Snapshots
by Tamara Chatterjee

France (September, 2014) – I've always loved the Institut du Monde Arabe for its architectural design. Each time I find myself in Paris, I find my way to marvel at the magical light that illuminates the senses and dazzles the eyes with it's mechanical geometry. It's apparent that regardless of age, it's a lovely place to dream.

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by Fiona Smyth

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Some Trees
by Malgorzata Wolak Dault

Number 97

Again I put on
the tree's foliage....

                  ---George Seferis, from "Sixteen Haiku" in
Collected Poems 1924-1955 (London: Jonathan Cape,
1969), p. 91.

by Cem Turgay

by Kai Chan

"Lavender"  2021,  27 x 15 x 5,5 cm, papier maché, bamboo, wood, acrylic paint

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Leaving Taichung Station
by Bob Black

Algonquin twinned, windward we

What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.-– Blackfoot

What will you remember:

This lifted light swaying through us,
The trees gathering, rooted in our patience
The golden and crimson leaves falling water-ward and the wind
tripping over itself, Dandy-ed drunken self
as we once one
Yellow and red-lunged and maple-hearted
Our love persistent as grass
Our longing as patient as those oaks surrounding, sentries lining the lake
We too, love
We too from teeth grew our ears, pinned by the words scribbled from branch
this sky of our life above blue and stitched together as a covering
Rivering and skyward, acorn hearts upending
In rivulets treilling--
If not, neither you nor us, nor any other

We billow, canopy of northern love, squirrels of light
Your breath as prayer
This lake our hermitage healed
Thus we understood all, and at once,

the uncovering, in all, is worth the work awoken from all this.

Later, she turned the corner and headed toward me, wagging and prowling from the mouth of the shadows like a wolf who hadn’t gnawed on a bone in months,  the rust in the door hinge that will not allow us to enter our cottage in the woods, the cotton you once ran threw over red clay, salted nuts and sweat-worn love,
All that, ...once returned.

A ghost in every incarnate, broken heart.
The shadow that gallops across the fields and through our breath, pirouetting
The murmuration of our hearts turn as the sun slows and falls as the days curtain,
Our winging selves:

The universe, the lining in your barked and broken palms,

The door to the universe, water tapped and thumbed by rain
A drive through rain to spread wringwarf through autumnal sky,
Algonquin twinned, windward we.

May you long linger under blue fields of sky, rivering
She wrote in the northern pebbled sand, ringing out, aw

Your voice is what I recall best, and the way your fingers’ nails have grow, the way your feet sounded slight across the damp, verdant grass, the rattle of the planes above us one by one awkward andus and away, the cobalt sky, that Sunday evening I. October, timberlostcurving like candlelight and earth shaken. To shirk the obvious.

Who could have known we were fit for this?

What will you remember: and all the light

A father, a fisherman and a shadow death at sea.
A mother now. A named son after a lost-at-sea father.
She teaches the infant now to swim, and count his breaths in the water, bobbling.

What will you remember?

All the life gathering beneath the clouds and damp dirt and kisses on the swaying pond and the wings spread wide: once we were young and grew old together, like moss knotted in dance with blackened roots on the forest floor: our own palms and knicked knuckles.
We were endless, then

The cosmos spins ineluctably.

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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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