Written collaboratively, the poems of Whisk play with language in all kinds of weather as they nod to traditions of Japanese linked poetry. From the everyday to the intensely lyric, moving through urban and rural landscapes, the images and surprising leaps -- potatoes in a cardboard box, starlight, cows in monsoon-soaked trees -- move readers as readily to laughter as into contemplation. Traditionally, renku or linked verse was composed under the guidance of an esteemed poet like Basho, during an evening of festivity with plenty of food and drink; longer sessions might include outings to natural or sacred places. Verses are linked by objects, word play, moods, and other means that are neither merely logical nor predictable, and the emerging poem is more journey than story. In Whisk, a burlap-wrapped shrub leads to a cat with a dead mouse at a dinner party, which leads to a man smoking alone in a car. The Doggies happily uphold the festive tradition of the renku party, but are completely collaborative, editing and revising together. In Yoko's Dogs' practice, traditional Japanese images take on a distinctly Canadian and contemporary cast. The poets write of snow, ice and slush; wolf or buffalo moons; highways and logging trucks; bear scat and batteries; bus queues and dog runs; skunks in the garden and squirrels running off with baguettes from the trash. Whisk evolved over five years. Though rooted in Canada and the north-eastern US, it spans several continents, touching down lightly in Brazil, India, Greece and Italy, even as it returns to the constancies of home and our place in the world.