#CanadianWriters
She squats, bare feet splayed out, not graceful; skirt tucked around ankl… Her face is lined and cracked. She looks old,
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,
Secrecy flows through you, a different kind of blood. It’s as if you’ve eaten it like a bad candy, taken it into your mouth,
My daughter plays on the floor with plastic letters, red, blue & hard yellow, learning how to spell, spelling,
In restaurants we argue over which of us will pay for your… though the real question is whether or not I will make you imm… At the moment only I
This is a word we use to plug holes with. It's the right size fo… blanks in speech, for those red he… shaped vacancies on the page that… like real hearts. Add lace
Cruising these residential Sunday streets in dry August sunlight: what offends us is the sanities: the houses in pedantic rows, the p…
Confess: it’s my profession that alarms you. This is why few people ask me to d… though Lord knows I don’t go out… I wear dresses of sensible cut
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.
i In view of the fading animals the proliferation of sewers and fe… the sea clogging, the air nearing extinction
‘They capped their heads with feat… their faces, wore their clothes ba… with torches through the midnight… and dragged the black man from his… to the jolting music of broken
Love is not a profession genteel or otherwise sex is not dentistry the slick filling of aches and cav… you are not my doctor
You begin this way: this is your hand, this is your eye, that is a fish, blue and flat on the paper, almost
The house we built gradually from the ground up when we were yo… (three rooms, the walls raw trees) burned down last year they said
My shadow said to me: what is the matter Isn’t the moon warm enough for you why do you need