Candles (A memory) Stumble into a dark apartment And fumble for the light. Empty and cool with the breeze Blowing through the open window. Flick the switch and gaze around At the mess of dishes, scattered papers, And children’s toys. The kids are back with their mother for the week And the place is quiet
In times, where “time” doesn’t seem to play a role, it almost seems as though everybody just keeps on running. “A new challenge”, “Something New”, “Recreate yourself”. Voices blend. Many talk, few do. Yeah! That’s how it is nowadays. Who’s done plenty in the past, may rest now. Who’s done little thus far, has to
Sung to the tune of C.R.E.A.M. by Wu-Tang Clan I grew up on the sci side, the Bill Nye don’t lie side Empirical research was my jive Had second hand textbooks and a laptop, man So then I went away to collegeland A young youth, reading strictly peer reviewed to get loose Debate your ideas
Daddy taught me all that I should know long before I started losing teeth. So by tender age of five or six, I sincerely held in my belief, the “Tooth Fairy” in name, was quite benign: A friendly capitalist, market-wise. So when I lost my molars, round age 9, well wasn’t I the model
When life throws everything at you Don’t drop the ball “Don’t drop the ball” “Blue 42 Set Hike!” A brown quarterback’s fingers Tighten around the white laces Of a football Roosevelt vs. Garfield They meet today Upon an annual battleground Where local legends Spell rivalry In defensive and offensive formations Upon this old field In
After two hours on the road, I see the wooden ‘Welcome to Nakusp’ sign. A big blue ‘N’ on a white background. The sign is weathered and worn and very much like how I feel as I travel highway 6 into town. “N” for Nakusp or “N” for numb? It is the middle of September
On the outskirts of the tiny village of Nakusp, in South Central British Columbia, sat an old barn with a gambrel roof. Once, it had been red but the paint had worn off and now the dry, weathered wood was ripe to be remade into chic furniture and sold to the seasonal visitors who
Senryū For The Artist Home is much better Don’t you agree? Much better To make art, instead Senryū For The Music Lover I do not care for The shouting in the streets Give me some Mozart Senryū For The Homebody I am a writer I am not an activist I’d rather stay home
I am Canadian, and my identity as a Canadian is something I cherish. I feel grateful because I was born in a country with a vibrant landscape where every person has access to healthcare…
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