Book Club Reflection: the Power of RISE

It has been 16 months since Humane launched, and what an amazing ride it’s been. Any time I wonder about the usefulness of writing a novel, I get sent wonderful messages from various sources. Here’s one that cropped up today while I was researching language resources (specifically, recorded examples of how to pronounce ‘Maengan’ –…

Reading the Writing World

I love my career as a writer. There is so much more to it than just sitting down somewhere and writing a poem, a story, a song. There’s a world of research behind the actual creative bits. Some of it is heavy, but a lot of it is joyous. Right now? I’m listening to some…

Makushin Readings: From Russia with Love (of Books)

In May, it was my distinct pleasure to attend (via Zoom) the 12th annual Makushin Readings in Novo Sibirsk/Tomsk, Russia. Recently, the presentation was posted on Youtube. Many thanks to my friend Svetlana Pavlenko for arranging this opportunity.

Reflection: St. Eugene, 2019

“We’re selling an opportunity to understand our history, to know our people and to share our vision of turning a 60-year nightmare around. We’re creating new memories for our children.” – Ktunaxa Chief Sophie Pierre St. Eugene is a former Indian Residential School, which has been made over into a resort, complete with casino and…

Poster Child

How about that? I’m a poster child, at my well-established age. It hadn’t been a career ambition, but it is an honour, to have my face (for better or worse, my own) out there in support of a really great cultural program. Want to know who we are as Canadians? Bring Canadian authors to your…

St. Eugene: Not a Poetry Video (yet)

Here are the gates. Beside them, an image from an older time, another purpose. Here is the gorgeous architecture. And beside it, tribute to the children brought here. Building and children face East, where the sun rises steadfast over blue mountains. Here is the message, the new mission. And here, the window of the room…

Worm Medicine

earthworm, indivisible one, you feed on smaller things what is dead, and what is rotting food of worms, no glory until above you, sky riots with beauty that feeds on your tiny work was it you? st. francis held in his hand, praying make me a channel of Your peace here, this reeking moment, break…