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.
Praise for Concrete and Wild Carrot:
“…Margaret Avison is a national treasure. For many decades she has forged a way to write, against the grain, some of the most humane, sweet and profound poetry of our time.” – from the Griffin Poetry Prize Judges’ Citation