#CanadianWriters
In the burned house I am eating b… You understand: there is no house,… yet here I am. The spoon which was melted scrapes… the bowl which was melted also.
What should we have taken with us? We never could decide on that; or what to wear, or at what time of year we should make the journey
My daughter plays on the floor with plastic letters, red, blue & hard yellow, learning how to spell, spelling,
She squats, bare feet splayed out, not graceful; skirt tucked around ankl… Her face is lined and cracked. She looks old,
You’re sad because you’re sad. It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s… Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeles… you need to sleep.
There are similarities I notice: that the hills which the eyes make flat as a wall… together, open as I move to let me through; become
i Behind glass in Mexico this clay doll draws its lips back in a snarl; despite its beautiful dusty shawl,
When you hear me singing you get the rifle down and the flashlight, aiming for my… but you always miss and when you set out the poison
The bronze clock brought with such care over the sea, which ticked like the fat slow hea… of a cedar, of a grandmother, melted and its hundred years
In the secular night you wander ar… alone in your house. It’s two-thir… Everyone has deserted you, or this is your story; you remember it from being sixteen…
The moment when, after many years of hard work and a long voyage you stand in the centre of your ro… house, half-acre, square mile, isl… knowing at last how you got there,
An affair with Raymond Chandler, what a joy! Not because of the mangled bodies and the marinated cops and hints of eccentric sex, but because of his interest in furniture. He kn...
Let others pray for the passenger… the dodo, the whooping crane, the… everyone must specialize I will confine myself to a meditat… upon the giant tortoises
I am the heart of a murdered woman who took the wrong way home who was strangled in a vacant lot… who was shot with care beneath a t… who was mutilated by a crisp knife…
Two voices took turns using my eyes: One had manners, painted in watercolours, used hushed tones when speaking