My new book is out!

02 03 16: Yes, my second collection of poems, Hollow Weight, is now available.  It can be found at the URL below (on Lulu), and soon will be available on Amazon, Barnes And Noble, and several other outlets.

“A brilliant new voice in Canadian poetry.” – Melinda Cochrane, writer

“Steven Fortune’s poetry will speak to you in a manner you’ve never been spoken to before.” – Susan Joyner-Stumpf, publisher


Philosophers you make of ev’ryone
in fluttered aviations over scores
of connotations.  Like a setting sun,
a soul attached to you implores
a single morning at a time.  A flock
of you in unison congests a chance
of visitations on a friendly clock
and talks reunions into games of trance.
The essence of a synchronicity
between a soul and body hides behind
a bamboo screen.  From there felicity
injects a flight of angel wings into the mind.

Will you beknight my footing with the sky,
and tuck me in a rainbow, butterfly?

(Probably the worst sonnet I’ve ever written, but the first one I’ve posted here simply because it’s my most recent.  It was inspired by the role of butterflies in Japanese culture, where they are closely linked to souls, either those that are alive and well in association with a living body, or with one who’s passed on. They are also the subject of superstitions, dependent on the number that travel together.  It’s said that if one visit’s one’s home and hides behind a bamboo screen, it is the soul of a lost love or relative making a visit.  If a large group visits, it’s believed to be a bad omen.  This was written for a friend who suffers from a disorder that also carries the butterfly as its symbol, and was put together fairly quickly, hence my jaded feelings towards it.  I will likely attempt to improve upon it at some point.)

06 11 15


A matutine illumination looms                                                                                                 uncharted in a pocket of your smile

Hovering audaciously around your lips’
emphatic lockdown on exuberance
with my limp paper crowbar
of practicing charisma
I stutter out a campaign against
an appetite of happiness sequestered
by the existential bread and water
of contentment

Your gum line must be
a palette of congealed contexts
as the passages of my pedestrian
existence spill from me like water
from a greasy bucket

Sentiments and intimations slap
the Easter Island stoicism of your residence
in General Emotional Delivery
like a jaded gypsy ostracized
and dispatched to domestication’s
evil empire

I just happen to be hunting for
an empress to oscillate a measure of
significance and chip away the stale air
I breathe like a lonely archaeologist

The treasury of your idyllic mouth
must hide a holy grail of a grin

Riches shine the brightest when held
to the purpose of a compliment’s guiding light

(c) Steven Fortune 2015

Maiden Voyage

Hello and welcome to my page.  As my username suggests, I’m a writer, and I’m here to promote my first collection of poems,  A Waltz Around The Swirls,  and introduce you to some of the other publications in which I’ve appeared.  Things are still very much under construction, so I hope you’ll keep in touch.