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…

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…

Day 25: Smoothing the Spirit

old houses hold on. the first day i saw this house i knew it was my home, knew its many windows. its east facing door was the first thing i painted. upstairs, early on, we removed that beige broadloom peculiar to quick flips. such old wood in some rooms refinished, but under the carpet, a ruin, old…

Bonus Poem:Moon Lune Luna Personal

Here’s the poem with which i started this year’s French/Spanish translation project. This is the version i collaged into a 3-language piece that i used to lure Madame Giselle Lemire into a crazy-fun trilingual performance experiment. Moon Lune Luna Personal En el fulcro  Au point d’équilibre  balance      point between l’été y otoño la…

Day 19:Steady

it’s something you draw down from the stars so that you, too, become a cord tying earth into heaven.  

Day 16: Spring Clean

in this corner, the fear of failure, the fear of wrong decisions, side-eye on the road not taken, forever judging might-have-been, seen in this light has to be shadowed and grim. clear that away. also the webbed corners cut to avoid fully inhabiting this space. do you admit to the glorious? day to day choices…

Day 14: Politics and the Hardware Store

nobody knows anyone our secret power lines and the larger lines underwriting over-arching, architecture of the power mad. the young women warriors yell at me, not knowing i’ve been yelled at all my life and i see it passing by. i was young when people hid native ancestry and my family refused that. it was…