The province is going into its third lockdown. Minneapolis is in the spotlight as the George Floyd murder trial begins. Traumas are resurrected. Spring seems to have had a false start. Everyone is grieving. Even if you don’t know it. Even if you do, it might be deeper than you Read more…
8 min in bed, 2.18.13. inspired by The Body Artist by Don DeLillo It is a dark and silent night outside the shed. It is a shed filled with books and bugs and a bright yellow light. A random edifice of kindness. The sign at the edge of the road says Read more…
Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman There’s been a bit of fuss over this book. I love distinct voices and the Ghanian-Brit argot of a pre-teen sounded like something more to love. Game on. There are few books I start and do not finish. I feel an almost moral obligation to not Read more…
“be there when you get there, but be *here* now” I found this ‘note to self’ in an old journal today; one of many journals and notebooks stuffed into the forest of cardboard cleared from storage. Perfect timing. My thoughts tend to race to the list of things I’m Read more…
After much talk and preparation – which consisted mostly of obsessing and fretting, I have begun the unenviable task of clearing out my storage space. It’s been a daily ordeal. I show up at the storage facility, punch in the convoluted nine digit code – after ten straight visits I Read more…
Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky 8 min @ Sorauren Parkette for Sonia H. Someone told me that the little orbs of light in photos means a spirit was present when the photo was taken. I took a photo of a cemetery at night just to see how many orbs came out. Read more…
my settings are off. there’s been a universal shift, imperceptible to the eye. random passersby are oblivious. even acquaintances remain unknowing until i verbalize the details in answer to “what’s new?”. is it still new? it’s three wednesdays since his last breath. is that a lot of time Read more…
A psychic goodbye by B.H. Whisper/ Quietly/ My name/ Before you go. The night is long. Night passes through the day/ To night once more Happiness to sadness/ Nothing is ever as before. A wisp of change/ Or twitch of Fate’s /Shriveled hand/ Don’t shed a tear nor try to Read more…