Abstract
Winner of the 2003 Griffin Poetry Prize and of the 2003 CAA Jack Chalmers Poetry Award and Globe 100 book for 2003 In Margaret Avison's new poems, little pleasures are bound up with larger ones. Her slightest subjects -- beloved Toronto parks with their population of oaks, firs, squirrels, dogs, kids, even ants, and the minutest sighs of her contemporary urban soundscape -- all have their being within an immense composition that calls and hauls us to a largeness, a category-breaking "always unthinkable" beyond.