“Prose, Sophocles says, is the kind of poetry that walks instead of dances—or that is what prose was when Plato was a kid. That is the kind of walking, and the kind of poetry, Sanger has given us here. I’ve never seen the Shubenacadie River, nor set foot on Sanger’s farm, but he has taught me how to love them, as only one who knows where home is can.” Robert Bringhurst, Globe and Mail
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Peter Sanger’s poetry has always demonstrated his extraordinary focus and vigorous engagement with the objects that surround him. These four essays find their basis in the everyday stuff of backwoods Nova Scotia, demonstrating how a road with two names, a crooked knife, an abandoned shipyard and a fragment of gypsum might hone our thoughts and shape our sense of words in place.
