Erin Mouré

(17 April 1955 / Calgary / Alberta / Canada)

Best Poem of Erin Mouré

The Cold

There was a cold
In which

A line of water across the chest risen
(dream)

Impetuate, or
Impetuates

Orthograph you cherish, a hand her
Of doubt importance

Her imbroglio the winnowing of ever
Does establish

An imbroglio, ever
she does repeatedly declare

to no cold end
Admonish wit, at wit's end, where "wit" is

***

The cold of which
her azul gaze impart a stuttered pool

Memoria address me here (green)

Echolalic fear
Her arm or name in French says "smooth"

A wine-dark seam inside the head, this ...

Read the full of The Cold

The Grammar Of The Dog

I have a little dog of water
It is just a little peg
my dog of water

Do you see it
so worn down across the field
nosing low in the bended grasses?

It is my dog of water.
Each leaf of grass dips a scarf into its passing.

Even the grass today is running.
Even the grass today touches the dog of water.

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