Steve McOrmond
Biography
Steve McOrmond - Photo Courtesy of Author
Steve McOrmond was born in Nova Scotia but grew up on Prince Edward Island. He currently lives in Toronto with his wife, Janet McOrmond, and has three books of poetry. His debut collection, Lean Days (Wolsak and Wynn, 2004) was shortlisted for the Gerald Lampert Award, while his second collection, Primer on the Hereafter (Wolsak and Wynn, 2006) was awarded the Atlantic Poetry Prize (now JM Abraham Award) in 2006. McOrmond then moved to Brick Books Publishing for his third collection, The Good News about Armageddon (2010), which was featured in many critics’ “Best of 2010” lists and was shortlisted for the 2011 ReLit Award.
Many of McOrmond’s works have appeared in anthologies, such as Breathing Fire 2: Canada’s New Poets (Nightwood, 2004) and Landmarks: An Anthology of New Atlantic Canadian Poetry of the Land (Acorn Press, 2001). Various poems have been published internationally in literary magazines and online at Maisonneuve (NY), nthposition (UK), and Jacket (Australia).
McOrmond has received other awards, including the Petra Kenney International Poetry Competition’s ‘Highly Commended’ award (2005), This Magazine's Great Canadian Literary Hunt 2nd prize (2001), The Alfred G. Bailey Prize from the Writers' Federation of New Brunswick (1996), and The Milton Acorn Poetry Award from PEI Council of the Arts (1995).
Many of McOrmond’s works have appeared in anthologies, such as Breathing Fire 2: Canada’s New Poets (Nightwood, 2004) and Landmarks: An Anthology of New Atlantic Canadian Poetry of the Land (Acorn Press, 2001). Various poems have been published internationally in literary magazines and online at Maisonneuve (NY), nthposition (UK), and Jacket (Australia).
McOrmond has received other awards, including the Petra Kenney International Poetry Competition’s ‘Highly Commended’ award (2005), This Magazine's Great Canadian Literary Hunt 2nd prize (2001), The Alfred G. Bailey Prize from the Writers' Federation of New Brunswick (1996), and The Milton Acorn Poetry Award from PEI Council of the Arts (1995).
After a long day, you’d think we’d drag our feet.
But we’re all elbows, jostling to catch the next bus home.
The boy and girl embracing near the stairs
aren’t in any hurry. Their stillness makes them central.
He is tall and gangly. She, stretching upward
to meet his gaze, one of Modigliani’s models,
impossibly long-necked and graceful. The crowd swirls
and eddies around them, the single-mindedness of water.
Neither is saying anything and I want to lie down
in their silence, shelter from the collision of voices,
sizzle of cellular transmission. Just then
the girl’s hands scribe the air, flicker like chickadees
and he responds, finger-spelling the words
between them, the body’s tones and inflections,
pursed lips, raised eyebrow. Something I remember
reading about Berryman, his secret hope
to be visited by physical disability—Milton’s blindness,
Beethoven’s loss of hearing. The fortunate affliction
that would rescue him from the machinery of living
day-to-day and bring him to his senses. If they could hear,
would the boy and girl still reach that other place
I yearn for? Looking into her eyes, the boy loses his balance.
They can hardly pay attention to what their hands are saying.
Published in The Good News about Armageddon (Brick Books, 2010).
Used with Permission of the Author.
But we’re all elbows, jostling to catch the next bus home.
The boy and girl embracing near the stairs
aren’t in any hurry. Their stillness makes them central.
He is tall and gangly. She, stretching upward
to meet his gaze, one of Modigliani’s models,
impossibly long-necked and graceful. The crowd swirls
and eddies around them, the single-mindedness of water.
Neither is saying anything and I want to lie down
in their silence, shelter from the collision of voices,
sizzle of cellular transmission. Just then
the girl’s hands scribe the air, flicker like chickadees
and he responds, finger-spelling the words
between them, the body’s tones and inflections,
pursed lips, raised eyebrow. Something I remember
reading about Berryman, his secret hope
to be visited by physical disability—Milton’s blindness,
Beethoven’s loss of hearing. The fortunate affliction
that would rescue him from the machinery of living
day-to-day and bring him to his senses. If they could hear,
would the boy and girl still reach that other place
I yearn for? Looking into her eyes, the boy loses his balance.
They can hardly pay attention to what their hands are saying.
Published in The Good News about Armageddon (Brick Books, 2010).
Used with Permission of the Author.
Critical Analysis: Momentary Respite from Contemporary Living
Neal Hanson (for Advanced Poetry)
Steve McOrmond’s “Finch Station” is about a young deaf couple talking to each other in the hustle and bustle of a Toronto subway station. The narrator comments on how, while everyone without disability is “all elbows” and “jostling” around, the deaf couple remains motionless, as they “aren’t in any hurry” (2, 4). This is because they cannot be bothered by the noisy turmoil external to them.
The couplet form of the poem – save the last, single line – not only reflects the two lovers, but also the rigid time schedule of the subway station. Such time constrains keep the crowd of businesspeople and workers from having faces; instead, the crowd “eddies” around with the “single-mindedness of water,” implying that as life (as time) progresses, so does the rigidity of one’s schedule, which makes people more like each other and less individual (8). In contrast, McOrmond chooses to describe the boy, who is “tall and gangly,” and the girl, who is as “one of Modigliani’s models,/impossibly long-necked and graceful” (5-7). These descriptions, albeit being short and commonplace, serve to remind the reader of the idiosyncrasy of the couple and not the faceless ness of the crowd.
Through “Finch Station,” McOrmond exerts his power as a writer and poet to make people listen to what is wrong in the world, particularly in an ecological and socio-economic sense. The people trying to get on their trains are blind to the couple’s beauty because they cannot lie down in their silence; therefore the crowd has no shelter from “the collision of voices” or the “sizzle of cellular transmission” (10-11). It is evident that the narrator “yearn[s]” to do what the deaf couple does: to be completely immersed in another with no outside distractions (22).
Lines such as “sizzle of cellular transmission,” allude to the modern world’s preoccupation with the electronic (11). McOrmond goes on to state that what is lost through technology and only seen and admired by the young couple: “the body’s tones and inflections,/pursed lips, raised eyebrow”(14-5).
Steve McOrmond’s poem is an accurate portrayal of a momentary respite from contemporary city living.
Works Cited (for analysis):
McOrmond, Steve. "Finch Station."The Good News about Armageddon. Toronto: Brick Books, 2010.
Steve McOrmond’s “Finch Station” is about a young deaf couple talking to each other in the hustle and bustle of a Toronto subway station. The narrator comments on how, while everyone without disability is “all elbows” and “jostling” around, the deaf couple remains motionless, as they “aren’t in any hurry” (2, 4). This is because they cannot be bothered by the noisy turmoil external to them.
The couplet form of the poem – save the last, single line – not only reflects the two lovers, but also the rigid time schedule of the subway station. Such time constrains keep the crowd of businesspeople and workers from having faces; instead, the crowd “eddies” around with the “single-mindedness of water,” implying that as life (as time) progresses, so does the rigidity of one’s schedule, which makes people more like each other and less individual (8). In contrast, McOrmond chooses to describe the boy, who is “tall and gangly,” and the girl, who is as “one of Modigliani’s models,/impossibly long-necked and graceful” (5-7). These descriptions, albeit being short and commonplace, serve to remind the reader of the idiosyncrasy of the couple and not the faceless ness of the crowd.
Through “Finch Station,” McOrmond exerts his power as a writer and poet to make people listen to what is wrong in the world, particularly in an ecological and socio-economic sense. The people trying to get on their trains are blind to the couple’s beauty because they cannot lie down in their silence; therefore the crowd has no shelter from “the collision of voices” or the “sizzle of cellular transmission” (10-11). It is evident that the narrator “yearn[s]” to do what the deaf couple does: to be completely immersed in another with no outside distractions (22).
Lines such as “sizzle of cellular transmission,” allude to the modern world’s preoccupation with the electronic (11). McOrmond goes on to state that what is lost through technology and only seen and admired by the young couple: “the body’s tones and inflections,/pursed lips, raised eyebrow”(14-5).
Steve McOrmond’s poem is an accurate portrayal of a momentary respite from contemporary city living.
Works Cited (for analysis):
McOrmond, Steve. "Finch Station."The Good News about Armageddon. Toronto: Brick Books, 2010.
Bibliography
Primary Sources
McOrmond, Steve. "Atrium." The Fiddlehead 270 (Winter 2017): 20.
---. "The Epistemology of Balloons." NewPoetry, newpoetry.ca, 7 Mar. 2018. Accessed 5 Dec. 2018.
---. The Good News about Armageddon. London: Brick Books, 2010.
---. “’Hi, this is Glenn and I feel like talking.’” and “The Superintendent.” Antigonish Review 137: 2004, 95-96.
---. "It Pains Me to Recall." Malahat Review. (2016): 95.
---. “Karen’s Cat.” Antigonish Review 146: 2006, 82.
---. Lean Days. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn, 2004.
---. "Night of the Sitcoms." Malahat Review. (2016): 94.
---. "The Path of the Hero." The Fiddlehead 270 (Winter 2017): 21.
---. Primer on the Hereafter. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn, 2006.
---. "Proof of Life." The Malahat Review 201 (Winter 2017): 20-21.
---. "Pure Outrage." Malahat Review. (2015): 32.
---. Reckon. Toronto: Brick Books, 2018.
---. "Rilke for Voice and Guitar." Malahat Review. (2015): 34.
---. "They." Malahat Review. (2012): 92.
---. "We: Source Code." Malahat Review. (2016): 92.
---. "Why We Wave at Trains." Malahat Review. (2016): 96.
---. "Wilderness of Signs." The Fiddlehead 270 (Winter 2017): 22.
Secondary Sources
Carey, Barb. "New poetry to make sense of modern life." Revs. of Blackbird Song by Randy Lundy, Stereoblind by Emma Healey, Reckon by Steve McOrmond, and Listen Before Transmit by Dani Couture. The Star, thestar.com, 29 Jun. 2018. Accessed 5 Dec. 2018.
Crozier, Lorna, and Patrick Lane, eds. Breathing Fire 2: Canada’s New Poets. Madeira Park, BC: Harbour Publishing, 2004.
Fahner, Kim. "Weaving a More Connected World." Rev. of Reckon by Steve McOrmand. The Fiddlehead 279 (Spring 2019): 119.
"Here Might Be a Path Out of Myself." Interview with Steve McOrmond, Open Book, open-book.ca, 12 Jul. 2018. Accessed 5 Dec. 2018.
MacDonald, Hugh, and Brent MacLaine, eds. Landmarks: An Anthology of New Atlantic Canadian Poetry of the Land. Charlottetown: Acorn Press, 2001.
Rotstein, Jason. Rev. of Primer on the Hereafter, by Steve McOrmond. Vallum Contemporary Poetry. (2006).
Wells, Zachariah. Rev. of The Good News about Armageddon, by Steve McOrmond. Quill and Quire. (June 2010).
Wolff, Elana. Implicate Me. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2011.
McOrmond, Steve. "Atrium." The Fiddlehead 270 (Winter 2017): 20.
---. "The Epistemology of Balloons." NewPoetry, newpoetry.ca, 7 Mar. 2018. Accessed 5 Dec. 2018.
---. The Good News about Armageddon. London: Brick Books, 2010.
---. “’Hi, this is Glenn and I feel like talking.’” and “The Superintendent.” Antigonish Review 137: 2004, 95-96.
---. "It Pains Me to Recall." Malahat Review. (2016): 95.
---. “Karen’s Cat.” Antigonish Review 146: 2006, 82.
---. Lean Days. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn, 2004.
---. "Night of the Sitcoms." Malahat Review. (2016): 94.
---. "The Path of the Hero." The Fiddlehead 270 (Winter 2017): 21.
---. Primer on the Hereafter. Hamilton, Ontario: Wolsak and Wynn, 2006.
---. "Proof of Life." The Malahat Review 201 (Winter 2017): 20-21.
---. "Pure Outrage." Malahat Review. (2015): 32.
---. Reckon. Toronto: Brick Books, 2018.
---. "Rilke for Voice and Guitar." Malahat Review. (2015): 34.
---. "They." Malahat Review. (2012): 92.
---. "We: Source Code." Malahat Review. (2016): 92.
---. "Why We Wave at Trains." Malahat Review. (2016): 96.
---. "Wilderness of Signs." The Fiddlehead 270 (Winter 2017): 22.
Secondary Sources
Carey, Barb. "New poetry to make sense of modern life." Revs. of Blackbird Song by Randy Lundy, Stereoblind by Emma Healey, Reckon by Steve McOrmond, and Listen Before Transmit by Dani Couture. The Star, thestar.com, 29 Jun. 2018. Accessed 5 Dec. 2018.
Crozier, Lorna, and Patrick Lane, eds. Breathing Fire 2: Canada’s New Poets. Madeira Park, BC: Harbour Publishing, 2004.
Fahner, Kim. "Weaving a More Connected World." Rev. of Reckon by Steve McOrmand. The Fiddlehead 279 (Spring 2019): 119.
"Here Might Be a Path Out of Myself." Interview with Steve McOrmond, Open Book, open-book.ca, 12 Jul. 2018. Accessed 5 Dec. 2018.
MacDonald, Hugh, and Brent MacLaine, eds. Landmarks: An Anthology of New Atlantic Canadian Poetry of the Land. Charlottetown: Acorn Press, 2001.
Rotstein, Jason. Rev. of Primer on the Hereafter, by Steve McOrmond. Vallum Contemporary Poetry. (2006).
Wells, Zachariah. Rev. of The Good News about Armageddon, by Steve McOrmond. Quill and Quire. (June 2010).
Wolff, Elana. Implicate Me. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2011.
