Tag: zine

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Pocket Poetry

Poetry zines

The workshop (uh, dining room table) has been busy lately, as I’ve been bringing some of my poetry to life by way of handmade zines featuring the RunHaiku poetry I’ve been producing over the past few years. Hand-drawn, -cut, and -bound, these little books were a lot of fun to put together, and are available at the Artisan Market at The Public on Main St, Steinbach, MB, this week (Nov 30-Dec 3, 2022)!

Here’s a sneak peek.

Between Breaths

Between Breaths cover

A study of RunHaiku featuring the word “between”, these poems explore spaces and relationships. It’s interesting how much time we spend between, between here and there, between dreams and reality, between storms and sunrises.

Between Breath sample pages

Long Winter’s Night

Long Winter's Night cover

As a year-round runner, roughly half of my RunHaiku each year are written in that cold, starry, snowy and spacious season known as winter. These poems tell about the experience of winter, and of endurance inspired by challenging seasons.

Long Winter's Night sample pages

Little Book of Poems

Little Book of Poems cover

Of all the book-making I’ve done over the past few years, my favourite has been hand-stitching notebooks for my kids. A blank notebook opens a world of opportunity, and I’m looking forward to seeing the words, poetry, and doodles that find their way onto these pages.

Thanks always for reading, hope you have as much fun interacting with these little books as I had making them!

Brent making books
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Journal

Abe’s

Any flatlander with big mountain dreams inevitably ends up at a place like this – the biggest hill they can find nearby. In our town, this place is called Abe’s Hill. Runners and hikers gather here to build their strength, 30ft of elevation at a time.

Thanks to Mike, Devyn, and the whole Arete crew for building dreams here together.

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Birds of Autumnwood

The spring procession of feathered friends in our very own backyard.

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The Old Climbing Tree

I grew up with access to a great climbing tree in the backyard. It was chopped down last summer.

Here’s the stump, nestled nicely between cars.

What’s really interesting is how much also changed in this area in the 30 years since I first moved to the neighbourhood. In the (my) beginning, the yard on the south side had remnants of a farm lot, concrete barn foundations, two crab apple trees, which the neighbour let us pick to made juice (my mouth still puckers at the memory of the tart little apples). Also gone, a row of towering cottonwoods, which would have been pictured above, where now a glorious patch of ordinary grass tries to grow, a peninsula between asphalt seas.

To the north, where our family’s huge garden, backing an aging shop (my dad’s car reconditioning shop) and a small rental house have been removed, now called home to a row of simple townhomes (thus the other parking lot).

Speaking to those with memories older than mine, they speak of the days when the area was all farmland. Even the neighbourhood where my childhood house was built was once a farmer’s field.

Call it progress, or simply change, even the largest and most dear of trees won’t stand in the way of it.

Here’s a little zine about the tree’s good old days, and mine.

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Journal

When Your Boots Get Soaked

A common theme this year, this time of year in particular, is crashing through ice and the soaking of feet.

Here’s a fun little collection of haiku, let’s call them “booter haiku”, compiled into an 8-page zine.

With thanks to closetjudas for opening my eyes to a whole world of description words used in other parts of the country to describe what I’ve always known as a “booter”.

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Where the Wolves Hooowl

Here’s an 8-page zine I made about our Wolf Howl Hike back when the snow was deep and the nights were cold (ok, they’re still a little cold), originally posted to brentmanke.com.