This Decemberduring wide nightshemmed by blackness,I remember roses.Pink yellow red violetthose satin blooms of June.We must wait six monthsbefore seeing blossoms,touch their brightnesscrush their scentwith fingertips.Now there are onlyebony pools of winter’sheavy ink of darkness.Dipping into memory ofmy lips touching petalstantalizing sweet buds.My body longs for softness.I glimpse brilliant faces offlowers right before me as
There it was: the find!Pretty pickaxe leaningagainst faded garage wall amongmany worn out tools ofrural work: dig—saw—cut—haul—drill—rasp—plane. dirt—steel—lumber—trees,Muscles taut:push—pull–lift—breakup—smooth—sharpen. Metal head extended,a ready-set-gowoodpecker,feathered handle smoothed byyearsmonthsdays’ effort toget that something done. Lift, admire:future ease of breaking throughdecades-packed driveway dirt.The power of pickaxe,the line of farmers, foresters, miners behind me,bending forward,moving me forward. The work gets
The child open, curious,smitten by snail, noIndy 500 here justidle, slow, spiralling ofslime and camouflageand, the best,housing is free. Aha! There’s oneandanother andthis onetiny and perfect,look! look! Tippytoeing on paths littered withweed piles browning asquack weed deepens, lengthensluxuriously assunflowerdips lower, languidly. Curious child still searching.Hummingbird turns tail fromblossom and feeder towinter wherever(may it always havenectar
“Where could he be?” Cecily shivered on the steps of a large, derelict mansion. Shifting, she adjusted her heavy knapsack to be more comfortable; it was filled with the various things needed for the day’s work. A compass, shiny, almost brand new; a hammer, which comes in handy more often than you would think; various
Two people coming together Flirt with hurt for joymix the curves of our personalitiesour nerves wet with weatherskin peels scarred and healingmuscles move through the ebbs and flows of our differenceReshape our swirls of selfToMeltMouldAndMixCarving them to fit as close as atoms allowawkwardly stepping forwardputting the surface together Two separate puzzles, paper crinklesCollage two people
You’re a human collage I’m an emotional miragewe’re a masterpiece worth makinglet’s find a paintbrushpaint what we are feelinga beautiful picturea mixture of our coloursPicture perfect We were just a polaroidfast but nostalgicworth keeping in the photo bookfor when we lookbackto what was
Everything has floated away Fish bones The belly gives birth to pain The tree moves like a dead stone washed by healing water On the banks of a jagged river in the hollow of a fresh wound I take a pager from the pocket of a thunderstorm but remember there is no
On your way to be stuck in traffic No escape by the Riverside Headed home just drove past it Chasing dolls on White Rock tides Drop your dream in the mail then hurry Richmond Post for your Russian bride Mayor’s rant of a Fleetwood foot rub Over the protests where he presides Point Grey down
What peaches and penumbras, Allan!Arrayed so gallantly against the meekTowing tonkas en train de bruit, perforce toAlert the sheep to the falling of the sky.What courage and costume, man!Perching primly, tweeting in treacherous shriek.Yet transparent in their hoarse bleating, by the by.
I was the household dishwasher from an early age, pulling my weight you could say. Scrubbing dishes after a meal, cleaning up after my family. My favourite part was always putting dishes away exactly how they should be. It brought a strange sense of glee to have control over this one tiny aspect of our
Remember our glory days when the world was fresh with possibility? It was a springtime of the spirit. In fact, it was spring. You and I were just two drops of rain, and we felt like we could fall forever. The world was our sky and the sky was our world. Everything was new and
Georgia stood in the parking lot of the Johnson Street shelter, her black beret snugged down over her ears, her gloved hands holding a basket of homemade muffins nestled in a gingham napkin, and looked around at the two dozen or so homeless people on the sidewalk. Temporarily displaced from the shelter while lunch
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