the poetry that matters

Natalie Simpson

Natalie Simpson's first collection of poetry, accrete or crumble, was published by LINEbooks in 2006. above/ground press recently reissued her chapbook Dirty Work as part of its Alberta Series. More of her poetry can be found in Shift & Switch: New Canadian Poetry (The Mercury Press) and Post-Prairie: An Anthology of New Poetry (Talonbooks). Natalie is a former managing editor of filling Station magazine, and intermittently publishes limited edition chapbooks through her press, edits all over. She lives in Calgary.

similar fingers 




Geosphorical, graphical, apoint in continual reticence. Hammers

blasting, all guns a-sway.


The day is thin and bereft.


I take self-evidence fully.              The word is quote “cramming.”


A growing concern for falliotropic armor, the glowing amorphous

etc., love and its constituent amiabilities.


Strain four walls and brilliant, sprain the hunt.


As such, you

being nudged in phonic

representation, being









Gorgeous elastic snap can master plastic rasp of wind in this


Some have laboured monotonously.

The day is chill.


I like to synchronize emotion with your states of undress.


Cast my photographic caught half wit.


Split lip was

biting sugar.

A version of detail lingers.


Your heart beats.

Flog them.







The day is swallows, shore and water balance, calm precludes.


Homing pigeons lose their way: what choice then

for language users who hone acutely to shifting

tension in spine and nerve.


For he guesses the most flaccid generosity.


Gash in the text weave thick.


Two thirds flesh, why nothing,

I was still working on the moving








Gild guilt with happy stances quick words work

no size but execution no pun your underpinning.


This writing puts a crimp in my throat, back deep resounding.


He elapsed with his grasp of time intact.


Your riff is all becoming:


Feeling slatternly helps a day get



Speak with breath heavy sentence sexes.


What desire, having begun with desire, what deserve.







form is fitting less inhibiting. fast handed rounds and round.

yesterday erased the plausible. structure fools those eyes that

clutter. at all costs, the simplest line nets all fluster.


you have to hustle round this game.


slight shivers hover the trap lines. at last the signal grips. these

stretches tender rhythm as intricate buds and bending. these

forms centre desire as stretching encased.






we fasten odd rhythm to our bodies: lantern and transom. a

climate of fallacy clatters. our bodies, you gather, are graphite

and pallid.


sadly, he meandered, these fascinations grow heady, aspirations

purse, meter per dollar, matter of face.


blips and strips, strum.


any word, errant, searching for a syllable leads to some link. we

scorn into set rhythms, redundant, redux.




Excerpts from "accrete or crumble"



accrete or crumble

by Natalie Simpson

LINEbooks, 2006


used by permission

click here to purchase this book from Apollinaire's Bookshop

find out more at: http://nataliesimpson.blogspot.ca/

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