Originally posted on O at the Edges:
? ? Helsinki An editor said never start a poem at a window, so instead I’m looking at the door, which is made of glass. We are to avoid rain, too, but it streaks the pane in such delicious patterns that I can’t help but pretend to be…
Category: craftsmanship
Kisses are More Important than Rats
Here’s a first review, from the wonderful Shelley Ann Leedahl. http://shelleyannleedahl.blogspot.com
For the Changing Moon: thoughts on Poems&Songs
My new book is out. The official launch happens Wednesday, October 24th, 7 PM at Audrey’s Books, with special guests, Edmonton’s own Spoken Word Youth Choir, under the direction of the fabulous Gail Sobat. If you’re in our town, come on down. This is book number two, yes, only number two. The long years of…
Bake Bread, Make Friends – article up at New Trail magazine
This summer, I had the delightful task of researching and writing a little article for my alma mater, University of Alberta. It’s the home page opener at their site, and I couldn’t be more chuffed. Our Daily Bread Now, I’m off to bake bread.
Peach Blossom (after Li Po)
Originally posted on O at the Edges:
Peach Blossom (after Li Po) Ask why I stay on the green mountain and I smile but do not answer; my heart rests. A peach blossom floats downstream – Heaven and earth, apart from this world. ? The transliteration on Chinese-poems.com is as follows: ? Ask me what…
Spirit Mothering
I was 23 when I met my spirit mother. I’d buried my father and my older brother, gone to university, gotten put on probation, answered an ad that seemed the answer to my prayer for something meaningful to do with that year, some path that mattered. The path led to Mexico, to a teaching…
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…
In Honour Of Lifelong Learning, on this Day of the Dead/Dia de los Muertos
With love to Margaret, and all my many beautiful teachers. You are the Gift. Today, I am an adult. I read, long ago, that Cherokee people count 52 as the age of majority, when one attains to the full rights/responsibilities of adulthood. It resonated with me, the notion that, by 52, one’s had kids (if…
2008: beginner
it’s 2008 and for one summer every morning at five i rise and write gather and sift look out over this hour before me becomes we but that is not true there is no separation of states everything becomes star etched footsteps lift like sun, echo light from a distance draws down don’t stare float…
No Masterpiece: On Finding One Drum
Here’s the essay i wrote for Edmonton Arts Council’s 2015 Annual Report (pg. 11). Lots of other good stuff in this issue, too. But as for my piece, it took a while to know what to write. After all, it turns out (a little to my surprise) that my practice could be accurately described as…
Guitar Boys and Girls
It is a fact of life: Boys use guitars for sex. If you are a guitar girl, you’ll be approached by boys who will treat your guitar as an avatar for your body. Simple, obvious. What i’d tell my sons, if i had any, would be: Rock Goddom is the manifestation of sexual slavery,…
May 23rd: Birthing It For the World (the Cribbage Hand Year)
In this, the day after the occasion of the fulfilment of a cribbage hand of years since my father’s passing i talk at length with some of my kin and realise, it’s more than time to renovate You and Me Against the World though it must be said that has kept us alive. Imagine what we…
