The year

How long have you been open?”

“Just over a year,” I reply.

I know. It’s a little crazy. Can it really be [15 months, to be exact]?

And… what a year. Simply astonishing, all that can happen, culminate, in a year. A first year.

And, here we are.

You only have to search these pages/posts to remember, perhaps your own writing/telling of it. If you’re reading this, I know you’ve been a significant part, even if from afar.

Thank you.

So, I want to share a few cherishable moments that come immediately to mind, thanks, and things I am so looking forward to.

Meeting AUDRA SIMMONS. Such a joy to share studio space with you.

Working with the most endearing, talented, affable fellow I’m blessed to know, NORMAN NEHMETTALLAH on book design, and an amazing [h]ear[t]. The welcome, assured guidance of JOHN DE JESUS at Coach House, invaluable as well.

Friend JIM JOHNSTONE, showing up the very day we received two week notice to vacate our old digs. Me: “I don’t think I can do this one [make this move] on my own.” Jim, “Kirby, this community loves you. Now is the time to ask.”

When dear friends Christopher and Ian came up the stairs rounded the corner greeting me with, “KNIFE | FORK | BITCH!,” reminding me I’m gay.

Friends/neighbours across the street, JOSEPH & LEO at Orbital Arts Gallery always, always being there, and never saying ‘no.’

Dearest HOA NGUYEN (fellow samurai) and I going out for bun at Pho Hung.

Miguel Leandro Gamboa.

CA opening for me at Doris’ launch. And opening me.

CINDY! ANYKA! NEIL! HAZEL! JAY! JESS! ALANA! KAREN! ASHLEY! SENNAH! STUART! AZ! NICHOLAS! this chorus could go on forever…  so blessed.

Aggie and Jim making me feel more special than they realize.

Canisia and Lynn (let’s go!)

Maureen Scott Harris. Ruth Roach Pierson. Hoa’s Sundays.

Gloria and Joshua, and the prom. Pearl Pirie, a constant inspiration.

Sue Landers and Ryan Eckes the night before and the AGO.

My brother Rick, being my loving brother.

Lynne DeSilva-Johnson. Parker Menizmer. UDP. Topos. David Bradford. Brooklyn/Queens. All ‘bar-raisers.’

Having a Jameson neat and pilser with DALE SMITH before our event in Montreal, talking about the beauty of men (“okay, time for one more.”) BILLY at Monastiraki. Montreal. Jonathan.

The love of poets. The passion of poets. The grief and pain of poets. Poets. The fucking hard work of poets. The generousity of poets. The joy. The poets. The poets. The poets.

Lovers/buyers of the book.

Your [regular] visits, each and every one [of you]. Your kindnesses.

A brief affair.


Diet Coke.

Fan saying, “Yes.”

Selling books for ANNE MICHAELS.

Chanukah dinner at Elianna’s.

KFB Fridays. All those who come out (even on the coldest of nights) and make it so.

Poetry read aloud.

Al Moritz showing up one night to hear Noah Wareness (then returning).

Kathryn Mockler, making my day, (again).


Roberto and Jake playing jazz.

A kick-ass first anniversary. A space held so dear.


“To the few men who allowed my admiration, I owe a debt of gratitude, the highest of my life.” ALBERT CAMUS Notebooks 1951-1959

Allowing me to be your sattelite. My aim is true. I don’t always get it right. Things slip through the cracks sometimes. Forgive my capacity.

This all off the top of her head…

“Did she say ‘thanks?'”

Part Two: Future Plans, to follow.

By Kirby

Poet. Book Fairy. Publisher knife | fork | book

2 replies on “The year”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.