Biography of Patrick White
Former poet laureate of Ottawa. Eight books of poetry: Poems (Soft Press) , God in the Rafters, (Borealis) , Stations (Commoner’s Books) , Homage to Victor Jara, (Steel Rail Press) , Seventeen Odes, (Fiddlehead Books) , Orpheus on Highbeam, (Anthos Books) , Habitable Planets, New and Selected Poems, (Cormorant Books) , and The Benjamin Chee Chee Elegies, (General Store Publishing) . His work has been translated into five languages and appears in hundreds of national and international periodicals and anthologies, including the likes of Poetry (Chicago) , Dalhouse Review, Texas Quarterly, the Fiddlehead, and Georgia Review, etc. Winner of the Archibald Lampman Award, Canadian Literature Award, Benny Nicholas Award for Creative Writing, he was also a runner-up for the Milton Acorn People’s Poet Award. Founding editor and publisher of Anthos, a Journal of the Arts, Anthos Books, and producer-host of Radio Anthos, a popular literary radio show. George Woodcock wrote of his Selected Poems in the Ottawa Citizen: He promises to be one our best and best respected poets. Sharon Drache, in the Kingston Whig Standard: He might well win the Nobel Prize one day in his own inimitable way. And Orbis, (London, England) , has said of his work: His images are strong, lyrical, moving. He dares and achieves.
Patrick White's Works:
Poems (Soft Press)
God in the Rafters (Borealis Books)
Stations (Commoner's Books)
Seventeen Odes (Fiddlehead Books)
Homage to Victor Jara (Steel Rail Publishing)
Orpheus on Highbeam (Anthos Books)
Habitable Planets, New and Selected Poems (Cormorant Books)
The Benjamin Chee Chee Elegies (General Store Publishing)
- The Widening Compass Of Pain
- You Were The Intimacy
- You Are Crazy
- A Day Of Writing
- Rain At Five In The Morning. Can't Sleep
- My Death Was A Quiet Event
- I Don't Know What I'm Here For
- Counting Orphic Skulls On The Abacus Of ...
- Alcohol, Sex, And This Cold Spring Night...
- Taking An Upbeat Flambuoyant Approach To...
- Yes, There Are Pale Gardens
- Mad People Trying To Impress Me
- On A Barren Hilltop In The Moonlight
- Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go
Burning World, Take Me
Burning world, take me, fold me in your flaming arms
and let me disappear into the unforgiving night.
Among these blind, here, in their black eggs,
eyeless birds who nest in their own ignorance,
I am the leper of light they drive out
with the stone of the moon, the wolf
with the mystic wound that will not heal until the last star
is born of the bleeding. Return me to the cold, brutal beauty
of your mineral wilderness, my bones on Venus