#CanadianWriters
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
This is the place you would rather not know about, this is the place that will in hab… this is the place you cannot imagi… this is the place that will finall…
The red fox crosses the ice intent on none of my business. It’s winter and slim pickings. I stand in the bushy cemetery, pretending to watch birds,
Winter. Time to eat fat and watch hockey. In the pewter mo… a black fur sausage with yellow Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed… to get onto my head. It’s his
All those times I was bored out of my mind. Holding the log while he sawed it. Holding the string while he measured, boar… distances between things, or pound…
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,
Living backwards means only I must suffer everything twice. Those picnics were already loss: with the dragonflies and the clear… What good did it do me to know
The snake hunts and sinews his way along and is not his own idea of viciousness. All he wants… a fast grab, with fur and a rapid pulse, so he can take that flutter…
He is here, come down to look for… It is the song that calls you back… a song of joy and suffering equally: a promise: that things will be different up t…
You walked in front of me, pulling me back out to the green light that had once grown fangs and killed me. I was obedient, but
I would like to watch you sleeping… which may not happen. I would like to watch you, sleeping. I would like to sleep with you, to enter
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
How did I get so dutiful? Was I… Going around as a child with a sma… sweeping up dirt I didn’t make, or out into the yard with a stunte… weeding the gardens of others
In winter the beach is empty but south, so there is no snow. Empty can mean either peaceful or desolate. Two kinds of people walk here:
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...