As the year sharpens down to its cold, dark endpoint, The Assembly will, with shaking hands, present offerings of consolation and making. On Hamilton's bumpy corner, look for the window with the milky white lights that shine neither white nor blue, but some thread-bare in-between hue. Inside the small space, the light will be warmer.

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​New works presented by: 

Andrea Carvalho
Andrew McPhail
Andy Decola
Brian Kelly
Brandon Vickerd
Dan Gibbons
David Trautrimus
Daniel Hutchinson
Fiona Kinsella
John Haney
Jamie Lawson & Jacqui Oakley
Margaret Flood
Nancy Anne McPhee
Stephen Altena
Steve Mazza
Svava Thordis Juliusson

​Lullaby

My little lack-of-light, my swaddled soul,   
December baby. Hush, for it is dark,   
and will grow darker still. We must embark   
directly. Bring an orange as the toll   
for Charon: he will be our gondolier.   
Upon the shore, the season pans for light,   
and solstice fish, their eyes gone milky white,   
come bearing riches for the dying year:   
solstitial kingdom. It is yours, the mime   
of branches and the drift of snow. With shaking   
hands, Persephone, the winter’s wife,   
will tender you a gift. Born in a time   
of darkness, you will learn the trick of making.   
You shall make your consolation all your life.

Amanda Jernigan
The poem "Lullaby" is taken from the collection All the Daylight Hours by Amanda Jernigan and published by Cormorant Books, Toronto. Copyright © 2013 Amanda Jernigan. Used with the permission of the publisher.