Today, they took the statue down in Kjipuktuk, or Halifax town in Mi’kmaki, mapped as Nova Scotia along the stormy Atlantic Ocean Where did it begin? This need to raise up monuments to men who call for deaths of other men and women and children and ways and lay a bounty on our scalps…
Month: January 2018
Unfettered: Good Night,Good Luck
This essay was written in 2016, when the Edmonton Journal cut its staff so severely, part of the Postmedia move to ‘consolidate’ newsrooms across the land. I didn’t publish it then; an acquaintance who works in journalism pointed out that it was a raw moment for everyone ‘in the field’ and not the time for…
Bizhiki: Witness
Ghost Dance the real ceremony is righteous hatred for the murder of the buffalo for the betrayal of the bond whose bones blow now in dust across you lands, whose blood seeped down and fed the water whose vow was never broken so long as the people remained faithful to their end of the deal…
This Cracked Violin
Consider a heart as this cracked violin this instrument of various parts does it matter where it’s from? Not descended from noble European houses, it has not played in Marseilles no craftsman in Italian baroque leaned close and breathed genius into the grain. My fiddle is a metis fiddle but not Metis, not from Red River and…
person Daniel Paul Marshall, three poems
Originally posted on ISACOUSTIC*:
Daniel Paul Marshall lives on the island of Jeju, where he runs a guesthouse & bar that he built with his wife. He has had poems published in a few journals, including Four Ties Lit Review, The Contemporary Haibun Online, Underfoot, and The High Window. danielpaulmarshall.com ∞ A handful of prayers…
Tool Of God
Originally posted on Prairiepomes:
? It has been a long, dark winter. Today marks four years since the tsunami that devastated Tohoku, with its continuing legacy of nuclear refugees, radiation leaking into the sea, untold ramifications to come to us all. I pray that those who are responsible to act directly upon Fukushima have been…
Shallow Dreams
I live in the North, where we set fire to the future as we burn the past. I live in the Shadow of the Elephant, that bawdy collection of vicious history and bepuffed expectations, that demands we nod along with the trumpeting falsehood that the best of them is the entirety of them. This…
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