Skip to main content

Sacha Archer :: from Ghost Writing





Sacha Archer is an ESL instructor, childcare provider, father, writer, and visual artist. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in journals such as filling Station, h&, illiterature, NōD, FIVE:2:ONE, UTSANGA, Matrix, and Word for Word. Archer’s first full-length collection of poetry, Detour, a conceptual work with the Dao De Jing as the source text, was recently published by gradient books (2017). His most recent chapbooks are, The Insistence of Momentum (The Blasted Tree, 2017), and Acceleration of the Arbitrary (Grey Borders, 2017), with two chapbooks forthcoming, TSK oomph (Inspiritus Press) and upROUTE (above/ground press). A collection of broadsides from his work Ghost Writing is his latest publication from The Blasted Tree. One of his online manifestations is his blog at https://sachaarcher.wordpress.com. Archer lives in Burlington, Ontario.


Popular posts from this blog

submissions :: where is the river

Up to six poems in a single .doc file with author biography and photo to kieferjdlogan@gmail.com

All rights revert to the author/s upon publication.

Klara du Plessis :: Three poems

Seeing is forgetting the name of the thing seen
The flower has been dying
silently beside me for days now.
Softly unburdening itself.
If I were to touch it ever so lightly
all the petals would be upset
and topple like the last bit of drink
in my mug all over the papers
on my desk. This slightly generic
image happens to me
on a Sunday morning, gently,
a homage to days taken off
in the past, the cotton shirt stuck
over my head in the act of pealing
it from my skin. Fetching
is a synonym for beauty.
Driving over to the pick-up point
to fetch an instant of attraction.
Becoming is also a synonym
for beauty. To burgeon,
to longingly cling to the act
of a future self. As syntax erodes
around you


East Plateau, Montreal
December 31, 2016

When last was cornucopia
a sign of decadence?
Domesticated horny,
baskets brimming, divers
reclining legumes
lisping along that rattan lip,
the most lethargic still
lifes in existence. I walk
across the Christmas cake
ganache pedestrian walkway
whittling at a po…

issue three :: January/February 2018