Brandon Wint’s inaugural collection,
Divine Animal from Write Bloody North, can be described in four words: heavy impact, gentle touch.
I first heard Brandon Wint perform poetry at a small venue in East Vancouver in 2011. I was one mason jar into
Café Deux Soleils’ legendary sangria when Wint took the stage. From the moment he began speaking, my arms were alight with goosebumps. Wint has always had a remarkable gift for delivering visuals, perhaps because he is such a keen observer of the world. Wint pays attention. He catches quirky specifics and like a wizard of mental origami, crafts them into poignant revelations.