Home is like “a memory of a lost photograph,” elusive but vivid. A place of tenuous security, “one claw on the screen” can threaten the entire structure. Joanne Epp, in her first collection of poetry, Eigenheim, shapes and reshapes the peculiar characteristics of one’s own idea of home.
Without defining the precise dimensions, there is room enough to house the essentials. Examining death and birth, loss and love, deep searching and unquenchable longing, Epp reaches back to her rural Mennonite roots while restlessly exploring what lies just beyond the sun’s reach.
I’m a poet with interests in books, music, and art. I have lived in Manitoba for over twenty years now, but still think of myself as being from Saskatchewan. My first full-length poetry collection, Eigenheim (Turnstone Press), was published in 2015; my second, Cattail Skyline (Turnstone Press), in 2021.
I’ve also published three poetry chapbooks: Crossings, self-published in 2012; Nothing But Time, part of the Summer Kitchen Series with Seven Kitchens Press, 2020; and Through the Window, published by The Alfred Gustav Press in 2024. My poems have also appeared in Canadian literary journals, most recently in Canadian Literature, Prairie Fire, and The New Quarterly.
For the past several years, Sally Ito, Sarah Klassen and I have been translating the poetry of the 17th-century Austrian writer Catharina Regina von Greiffenberg, and in 2023 a collection of our translations was published by CMU Press.
Besides writing, I play the organ and have sung in choirs since I was eight years old. Lately I’ve been learning a bit about letterpress printing, and am thoroughly enjoying that. And, whether at home or travelling, I am fond of photographing wildflowers.