There is an Onion by the Stove

There is an onion by the stove brown-papered, seeming unconcerned smug, really, if you come to think of its audacious round bum at rest   Audacious, to just sit there, by the stove so near the fire, so nonchalant and calm Ha – is there anything more patient? or more self-centred than an onion?  …

Animate

you get to an age where you take up your space sink animal roots into animate places, move by instinct and discipline you choose, what to honour what to remember, what unravels in the wake you hold fast where you take up your space you choose the colours, mindful time shades and tints strike the…

Ways We Save the World

  1 mangroves cradling coasts anew, hurricanes to cry safely in their arms 2 black pines in Miyagi, standing sentinel along Tohoku shore, braced against tsunami roar 3 Wangari Maathai, her hands, mind, life to the task, spreading green over African sands 4 Elion in the Kubuqi, planting a Great Green Wall against barbaric sands…

Day 12: Dull Thing

Day 12, our task is to write a poem addressing something dull, or mundane. Sure. Dull Thing dull thing: I could speak here of a knife worn thin it is its metal, atom by atom, infused into all who have shared my kitchen binding us. but a knife is a tool, best kept sharp; or…

Call and Response:O Open Heart

How To Hold You Now there is no way, actually to repay uncounted courage there is no way to say what lines the heart there are no swans no thrumming wings write the sky full that road carries no sign Overboard Li Po had no truck with suffering for art they say, when he fell…

Home Words: Come Out and Play!

Poetry Month is upon us. For  2019 Edmonton Poetry Festival  I’m honoured to be performing at 3 events, sharing the stage with some very fine wordsmiths. If you’re in Edmonton, come on out (I can’t promise I won’t ask you to sing along) – CKUA Studios on the 23rd, 6 PM, CBC Centre Stage at Noon on…

The Silence Between Two Rivers

I call myself the Silence Between Two Rivers because I inherit two large streams of humanity. The stories of our interconnections are not well told, for the most part. And the pressure to choose one side or another of my identity is real. And tedious. And not nearly as interesting to me as the territory in between.

A Mustang for Bob: Self-Portrait as Compost

Originally posted on O at the Edges:
  Self-Portrait as Compost Beneath the surface find warmth, the fruit of decay and mastication, of layered mixes and intermingled juices. Disintegrated or whole, still I strive to speak. Bits of me meld, to be absorbed slowly; I process and am processed: here, within the pepper bush’s deep…

Edmonton Artists’ Trust Fund

This year, I am honoured to be one of ten recipients of an award through the Edmonton Artists’ Trust Fund. Find out about this remarkable granting initiative, and the ways it’s been supporting creative community building in Edmonton since 1997. Thanks to the one and only Darrin Hagen  (also a recipient this year!) for nominating…

Firewood

Originally posted on O at the Edges:
  ? Firewood For two years the oak loomed, leafless. We had aged together, but somehow I survived the drought and ice storms, the regret and wilt, the explosions within, and it did not. I do not know the rituals of trees, how they mourn a passing, or…