The Ride 
Tuesday, April 30, 2019, 12:19 PM - Poetry and Writing

Marcel, youíre a pirate, a dreamer
a bugger, a spinner of yarn,
you are one of my fondest memories.
Guitar, crackling fire, a few friends,
the ocean A-framed.

If only the world could drift off like
we did that night,
bodies opening to new trust.

In your fourth round,
still standing you bought a motorbike,
a t-shirt with a radioactive sign, asked
the nurses to play Wagnerís Ride.

Nothing big is easy.
A woman found four bees
living from her tears.

This isnít news to our bodies.
That grief both offers & unseats. Itís
messy, weíre always a little close
to stinging or being stung yet something is fed
when we love. Grace and a big unflinching heart
can hold most of this. When we lean right in
there is space
around words
around the tightening
around minds that keep buzzing
and feeding.

When we let it move
let the space and silence
around sensations bloom,
it is us-
sadness and fear,
symbols and bellies
motorbikes and Wagner,
wide wide ocean and fire
this round, every round
still moving
still open
and yes, by god, youíd insist,
fist & grin if you were here,

still standing.

In memory of Marcel LaRoche. For Sam, Mischa, Natasha and that big unflinching heart.

Upaya haikus 
Wednesday, February 27, 2019, 08:21 AM - Poetry and Writing
up bearing witness
this blood moon tango with light
enso in the stars

tears fall with the chants
honour but donít privilege
strong winds are fleeting

little red maple
touch of drag with winter hues
more wink than prayer

photo: Warren Summers

Meridian 7: Fireflies 
Sunday, September 30, 2018, 09:46 AM - Poetry and Writing

Poetry Reading 
Thursday, August 9, 2018, 09:29 PM - Poetry and Writing

Design and photos: Karen Smith

Saturday, June 16, 2018, 07:53 AM - Poetry and Writing
China banned the letter N
so parts of me are disappeared

blooms swell between us
the red different each time

parts of me are disappeared
you scare me, so sue me

the red different each time
when we donít police

I scare you, so sue me
sometimes I forget my lines

when we donít police
blades open and open

sometimes I forget my lines
there where the empire cracks

blades open and open
who knew this was hunger

there where the empire cracks
China banned the letter N

who knew this was hunger
blooms swell across us

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