The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

e ona Beiks, editor I was sitting in a restaurant, writing random thoughts in my notebook while waiting for a friend. He was late. But I wasn't mad. It gave me time to write in one of my favourite places: elsewhere. For some reason I always write better elsewhere. With a pen in my hand, I tend to look around with heightened awareness. I inevitably begin by documenting the scene. Characters walk through the door and sit around me. Before I know it, I am at it again - shamelessly engaging in anthropological voyeurism. Scanning the room, I notice someone sitting at a table, one hand wrapped around an espresso, the other around a pen. Oblivious to all, he writes with a feverish rhythm. Struggling poet comes to mind. And I'm right. I've stumbled into a night of free flow poetry reading. Not surprisingly, war and social injustice are the common threads that weave through poetry that was compelling, powerful, compassionate, humourous, irreverent. Disturbing. Inspiring. "Isn't it ironic that so many artists became rich and famous because of the images of war they present for public consumption? Aren't they just as bad as C N N ? " asks cynical friend. For a balmy evening, it's a frosty " g o o d night." Home, I'm drawn to a book on War Poets of the Great War. I instinctively open it to Wilfrid Owen's (1893-1918) D u k e Et Decorum Est, a vivid description of a soldier w h o doesn't get his gas mask on in time: In all my dreams, He plunges if in some pace And you Behind watch could before my helpless choking, you too we flung writhing sight, drowning. could him in, face, Come lungs, vile, friend, The mori. heroes....Nor is it about deeds, or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, might, majesty, dominion, or power, except war. Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity. Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense consolatory. They may be to the next. All a poet can do today is warn. That is why true Poets must be truthful." And therein lies the beauty of something so at me, guttering, smothering the wagon the white face, hear, from sores ardent at every bitter dreams that eyes jolt, in his His hanging gargling Obscene incurable you would children like a devil's sin of sin; If the blood the froth-corrupted on innocent such for some et decorum tongues, high desperate as cancer, as the cud Of - My zest To glory, not tell with old Lie: Dulce est Pro patria ugly. The truth. I call cynical late friend and read Owen's words on poets. "This is not about Captivating Kids Crafts Capilano Mall and Lewiscraft are pleased to offer F R E E Kids Crafts. Your little ones will be captivated by the artistic adventures and our great projects are sure to keep them busy! Join us for great craft fun... always on the first Saturday of each month! kids crafts! First S a t u r d a y of e v e r y m o n t h N o o n - 4 p m / in front of L e w i s c r a f t 935 Marine Drive, North V a n c o u v e r / C u s t o m e r Service: 604-980-8561 Capuano Mall 2 May | June