::Arc Poetry::Log Entries::Editor's Note: Couplets in bowler hats::

If you have been obsessed with poetry long enough—say, I don’t know, 27 years and counting—you have seen the Arc of the line-drawing cover, the Arc of the stenciled logo, various mustardy Arcs, square-faced Arc, the Arc of dramatic artwork embedded in solid colour—and the early, the first, the one-and-only Arc of the Stapled Spine….

Maybe you remember Arc 38, sporting Cheryl Sutherland’s eerie “Rabbit Mask.” Or back when “arc” was all lower-case, followed by a fat, aqua-blue colon. Then there was that guy with a nose like a melting icicle and a typewriter glued to his lap, clacking away on every cover back in the early eighties. (What was he typing anyway?)

Unlike a poem that bows its way regally off the page—a poem that is indubitably complete—a poetry magazine is never done. Each issue is an entrance, and a publication senses in its very spine—stapled or bound—when it’s time to refresh its wardrobe.

As you might be guessing by now, Arc’s been feeling the wardrobe shiver, so we went and got it a new set of duds—much thanks to new support from the Canada Magazine Fund and to Serge Duguay, our makeover specialist (a.k.a. art director).

Be warned: Number 55 may well spring right out of your hands and start strutting about your home. Don’t be alarmed; it’s just showing off its new gear. You know how it is. Whoever heard of a modest, retiring poetry publication? Who’d want to? Indeed, we hope the made-over Arc does an even better job of showing off what it has held between its varied covers for nearly three decades: the finest new poetry, and the most comprehensive selection of poetic discourse and criticism in the country.

Now, turn the magazine over and shake gently. Mutter your spell, whatever it is. A poem may just fall to your floor. Pick it up, read it. Check out, on the flip side, what it led artist Paul Henderson to concoct. Welcome to arc card #1, inaugurated here in honour of the 10th Annual Poem of the Year, selected by the contest’s original winner, Mildred Tremblay. Also in honour of this poem by Sandra Kasturi is a special How Poems Work column by John Barton, former co-editor of Arc. (How Poems Work appears monthly at arcpoetry.ca.)

Fear not. As you’ll see, when we clean out our closets we don’t chuck the good stuff away.