Murderers, Whoremongers, Liars, and Worse.

by Robert Earle

Two rooms in Pyongyang. 1930s. The room in back with sleeping pallets, cast-iron wood stove, cooking utensils they made themselves, and a chamber pot next to the food box. The room on the street only a half room with an awning open like a mouth in daytime and shut like an eyelid at night. No space to work safely. Sung Wei’s father, mother, and sister deliberately bumped him. Why? His father said to teach him lessons. Metal work was dangerous. “This chisel? Puncture your chest. This lathe? Skin your fingers to bone. Stay out of the way!” With his drill press his father could make metal curl out of holes like noodles, but better not touch them. Sharp as razor blades. He also had a small forge. Sung Wei would watch his father heat metal orange-hot, pull it onto the anvil with tongs and pound it with his hammer. Even …...


Two Poems.

by Kasia Juno

LAKE VOSTOK FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF A YETI CRAB The Russians are impatient. They’re serving seal meat in the soviet canteen, the coldest restaurant ...

Three Poems.

by Chris Hutchinson

MILE END, IN THE END   Low on love, we fell for a five-storey walk-up. A livid slice of global warming sky sold us on the view. At night, the c...

The Gift.

by Vincent Colistro

  I undid the ribbon on the gift- box and it must have been a load- bearing ribbon because the gift imploded. This is also the nature of a secr...

Three Poems.

by Marc Di Saverio

THE MOUNTAIN BROW —from The Love Song of Crito di Volta   After electrical parties I stroll solo to the snowy Brow where teenagers blow smoke r...


by Matthew Vanstone

  At the limit Of friendship That glory Oscillates Giving in To antipathies Only a monk Would reason Eyeless Consider The possibilities Barking...


by Jake Skakun

  The boy woke most nights mid-gasp, silent scream cut from fright— a blink through the keyhole, or shift past the door gap. He grew, became a ...





“Mapping Literary Urbanism”: An Introduction to Littered T.O., Summer 2014 Svpplement.

by Jason Freure & Tyler Willis

In 1998, Toronto amalgamated with its five neighbouring municipalities to make the city we know. Today, Toronto is North America’s fourth largest city, but as its borders and population have expanded, has its identity kept the pace? Hundreds of books have been set in Toronto, and it continues to inspire authors. But as soon as these books launch, the city underneath them has shifted. Their locales shut down; their skylines change. Eventually these books become reflections on a city lost to the past. As the city has grown, its civic identity has come into crisis. Bitter political divisions between the old city of Toronto and its former suburbs have come to resemble an inter-borough culture war, and in many places the city’s skyline is unrecognizable from the Toronto of 1998. Meanwhile whole neighbourhoods have been made over with new facades, fashions, and cultural trends. The millennium has seen a massive …