Poetry
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Fast and Late Poem about Utterson, Ontario
Utterson was unassuming? It was the Muskokas but not THE MUSKOKAS. But you were golden enough as it was, your slicked body slipping through the dark lake that gave birth to you over and over as you wiped down your face and said “The water’s fine” Later you would take magic mushrooms around the fire… Continue reading
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Walking In April
Crocus and snowdrops are the suckling pigs this spring, coming up fat and hot in the April sun. I watch as a squirrel carries in his mouth the lifeless body of a bird, deflated like a month-old balloon. He didn’t make the kill, that’s obvious—it’s just some poor old sparrow that died his own way… Continue reading
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Growing Old
Gardenia Are the whitest white you’ve ever seen, Except for the hairs escaping my brain To surface slowly on my head Like the last ever flowers Of a dying earth. Continue reading
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The Ninth Month: A Prayer To My Unborn Baby
In my ninth month of growing you, Naima, I begin the return to myself. Your mother has been walking through dust so that men mistake her for a fallen city. You don’t yet know what a mother is. I am the first god you will have, but only accidentally, and then you’ll have more and… Continue reading
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September, You
“Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”-e. e. cummings Notions of love are a sometimes-heaven, like how, with the morning, a star becomes the colour of the sky. In a bad state I begin to feel we’re in the country again, this time forever– worse, this time for the last time forever. I… Continue reading
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Leonard Cohen was a poet who also made music…
…Not a musician who also wrote poetry. The Art Gallery of Ontario put on an exhibit earlier this year featuring the life and works of Leonard Cohen. There was a 20 minute documentary projected in loops on a wall with clippings of Cohen’s famous interviews and more personal footage. The walls and tables were lined… Continue reading
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From The Upper Peninsula
I want to shake the world by her northern shoulders and scream! Clouds are the dreams of the sea and when it rains the Earth is crying in her sleep. And when we’re covered in snow the gods are saying never mind, let it go… But I want to pull the world close to me by her… Continue reading
About Me
A poet living in Ontario. Mostly works of memoir and poetry that focus on motherhood, womanhood, and relationship to self.