Category: Alden Nowlan

A Poem About Miracles Why don’t the records go blank the instant the singer dies? Oh, I know there are explanations but they don’t convince…

Broadcaster’s Poem I used to broadcast at night alone in a radio station but I was never good at it partly because my voice wasn’t…

A Certain Kind Of Holy Men Not every wino is a Holy Man. Oh, but some of them are. I love those who’ve learned to…

A Mysterious Naked Man A mysterious naked man has been reported on Cranston Avenue. The police are performing the usual ceremonies with coloured lights and…

The Bull Moose Down from the purple mist of trees on the mountain, lurching through forests of white spruce and cedar, stumbling through tamarack swamps,…