Some poems can live without souls / but mine remain ghastly fools
flicking / uncomfortable narratives like / cigarette butts during class
change.One out of every twenty students in the adult education classes
Evan J teaches in Sioux Lookout, Ontario, dies every year; the surviving
students are often afflicted by severe racism, poverty, addictions, and
violence. Ripping down half the trees engages with these struggles,
offering a catalogue of experiences specific to the remote regions of
Canada.Tearing down the façade of Canadian justice and equality to
expose the racism, colonialism, sexism, prejudicial capitalism, and
ableism at the nation's core, these are poems about cruelty, both the
obvious and the ambient. They are unflinching in their sociopolitical
criticism, upset by unchanging systemic oppressions, unable to overlook
the threat of the author's white skin, unwilling to forget Justin
Trudeau in blackface. And while they acknowledge the limits of the
author's privileged perspective, they are never willing to let the
perpetrating structures of this cruelty go unchecked.But these poems
also let stand the shelterwood, the upstanding actions of individuals,
the totems of hope. They work as coping strategies, as therapy, as
empathy, offering a glimpse of optimism and a space for discourse. These
are poems that listen.