Jessica Lee McMillan

The first to be accused of robbing the good Captain were local Indigenous men and the bullet hole is still wedged in the doorframe by the...

We watch the trees for the give and take. Our eyes cup the weight of leaves, the deaths that make new ceilings When the heart breaks, it...

Foraging metaphors, my winter garden is spare, pared-down, pruned within an inch of life like ghost-blossom hydrangeas chopped to woody...

At the flea market the blocks of clay we bought instead of the latest toys carved our imaginations to a polish in our hands In second...

The famous batch of taffy flooded by an ocean swell in Atlantic City created the paradoxically salty confection. This is the origin...

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer And I am dumb...

After Freddie Hubbard first light skims on green wing like sprouts strobing for ray climbs from soils of night, through damask-leafed...

I’ll just come back as a paperweight of dense phantom glass, a universe convex hugging the walls in the lens of time, the objet d’art...

Our room grew a hole when the sky landed by our heads and, when meteorite met bed of linen taut with our stereotypical tensions, the...

Autumn is the season of falling leaves childhood is a season of losing teeth The loss of the first incisors starts at the dissolving of...

The pavement was dry, February grey —enough traction for the drunk to correct his advance left In physio, I took care of the whiplash but...

Free verse How the cerebellum spills over the shiny panes reflecting the sky, the world in freehand sketching transparent refractions of...

What Henson's psychological universe teaches us Master world-maker Jim Henson defined my childhood with alphabet letters taught by...

Locking eyes with a perched crow is a transference of bird’s-eye-view, the binocular reconciling of separate frames in one image, side...

Bandaids are my tales of chaos on playgrounds, the dermal terrain of nicks and scratches donned in battle with objects I collide, a...

An alternative and prosaic look at the evolution of surf music and its resistance to generic rules from mid-century to present. This long re

Somehow a patch of sunflowers bloomed from the street corner — a concrete wedge of dog waste baggies, trash from the cannabis shop and...

Memory is a basement carpeted in orange and brown, electronics warm, vinyl cords in rainbow of 7 colours 7 notes in analog polyphony...

Standard-issue funeral option tombstones are concrete slabs like ashes in a cardboard box, aggregate mixtures of concrete sprawl, a...

The soundtrack for Wes Anderson’s 1998 cult favourite Rushmore is an unexpected mix of hidden classics that has now become a formula for...