Ongoing notes: the ottawa small press book fair (part one: Bardia Sinaee + George Bowering,

Anotherfair has come and gone! Thanks to everyone who participated, from exhibitors to volunteers to readers to audience! And did you see I made shortbread? Be sure to save the date for this November, when the fair will turn thirty-one years old. That’s pretty exciting, yes? I’malready working on dates for June and November 2026 (which feels a millionyears away, I know). And of course, see my reviews from last fall’s thirtiethanniversary ottawa small press fair here (parts one, two, three), or last fall’sToronto International Festival of Authors’ Small Press Market (parts one, two,three, four) or even my notes from last spring’s ottawa small press book fair(parts one, two, three). So much small and micro press activity! Here are thefirst of my notes from what I picked up this time around:

Ottawa ON: The latest from Ottawa poet Bardia Sinaee,author of Intruder (Anansi, 2021) [see my review of such here], is thechapbook Flinch (2025), a title, according to the colophon, “wasco-published by Skunkwords and Horsebroke Press [a press run by Ottawa poet Jeff Blackman] in Ottawa in May 2025 and distributed as issue 33 of TheseDays Zine.” There’s almost a wistful distance, a wistful quality, to these poems,offering a bit of distance across first-person observations so deeply personal,even intimate. “I can’t / remember why / I walked into / this room,” the poem “StillLife” begins, “with its / packed-away smell / & painting / of a water mill[.]” There’s such a lovely and delicate nuance to these short musings, theseshort narratives, one that holds an edge but not by displaying that edge; onethat provides a clarity beyond clarity, and into a far deeper understanding ofbeauty, and life, such as the last three stanzas of the two-page final poem inthe collection, “Love Poem,” that reads: “I don’t / miss the cancer / or theward / but the time / we snuck into // the shower / we thought / would be our /last together / I loved shampooing / your hair // it was like / breathing /under water [.]”

Household items

after receiving theliterary prize
I upgraded to ocean-friendlytuna
I finally cleaned themicrowave
then thinking better ofit
ordered a new microwave 

spruce tips in antiquepinch bowls
reed diffusers inlavender oil
I curated the air
carrying on like I hadalways
known refinement 

we are instructed to dothe negative
the positive is already
within us, wrote Kafka
who would have liked
to be a loaf of hardbread 

that’s why I keep my mind
smooth as a pearl
grown from a splinter
a poem is not a wildanimal
roving the page 

a poem is not a journey
it is always already here
anyone can access it
with only a few householditems
& ten thousand dollars

Phil Hall, Canadian poet

Vancouver BC/Cobourg ON: From Stuart Ross’ Proper Tales Press comes an odd assortment of poems from Vancouver writer and troublemaker George Bowering, the chapbook Phil Hall (2025), acollection with a photograph of Perth, Ontario writer and editor Phil Hall byPaul Elter on the front and back cover, as well as within, although the poemsin this collection may or may not have anything to do with that particular PhilHall. These are poems by Canadian poet George Bowering that reference Canadianpoet Phil Hall, playing with a slightly fictional Phil Hall that may or may notresemble the actual writer. As the opening piece, “Notes on the Life of theCanadian Poet Phil Hall” begins: “Phil Hall once took a jar of sand from a beachon the west coast of Costa Rica to Chad and emptied it into the Sahara. A companionreported him as saying, ‘Find that, you arseholes.’” These pieces are delightfullyodd, with narratives running from the entirely plausible into the completely implausible,running a fine line between the two until, of course, Bowering takes the wholesurrealist play up a level. With poem-titles including such as “Phil Hall andthe Chickadee,” “Phil Hall and My Mother,” “Phil Hall’s Macaw” and “The Malladeof Phil Hall,” this is a delightfully odd and entertaining small collection,one I entirely recommend you pick up a copy of. Although, I probably should have asked: What does Canadian poet Phil Hall think of all of this?

Phil’s Fiction

Over a warm October weekin Oliver I wrote a terrific love poem to my wife, who was visiting friends inCumberland.
            Then one afternoon it rained, so there was no orchardwork, so Phil Hall sat down for an hour and wrote what I knew was a better poemfor her.
            They were nice about it. They sent me a postcard fromCumberland.
            I decided to quit poetry and wrote a story about lostlove and orchard work.
            Phil wrote a story while having lunch with some of myVancouver friends. It won a prize in a Victoria literary magazine.
            Over seven years I wrote a novel about a matricide inVancouver. It made the short list in a national creative writing contest. Philcame in the winner. And wrote three other books on the short list under pennames.
            They sent me a nice postcard from Ottawa.