from My Vicipedia Komst Borscht (derived from my mum’s recipe) Stock made with 1 good chicken (fryers suck for this), fresh, free range is best 2 sticks celery ½ – 1 onion roughly chopped 1 carrot, 2 if you like the soup a little sweeter pepper corns 2 bay leaves Boil, reduce to low boil
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My Life in Pieces
MY LIFE IN PIECES is a video-cast autobiography in ten minute instalments. Pieces is a rolling story picking up fragments of my life, investigating parts of my body and pieces of my mind to prompt writing in multiple forms. I’ve had the company of Murray Toews (Graphics, animation), Kevin and Caden Nikkel (live film, recording and editing) to provide video accompanying my words for the first three episodes.
MY LIFE IN PIECES is an audio podcast picking up and examining pieces of my life.
MY LIFE IN PIECES is text and image of my life in pieces.
I DREAM OF ANNE CARSON
SCENE ONE! (I can smear the snickering already. Make that hear. I will check each line by line, or not. As dementia sinks in, I am dismayed how much how quickly of brains “braininess” is ripped out. ) I signed up for an academic.edu class, The time It was to begin was written as 1:00
... read more.THE SCALE OF MY MISFORTUNE
ANGELS ON MY SHOULDER the scale of my misfortune frightens those about me as my mother said though tell me Tell me something anything before I’m dead. Don’t make me plague your dreams, like last night wanting you to drive us home dad asking where you hid his flat cap bullying you down Main Street
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FOUR IN THE MORNING
It’s four in the morning and Gus my tabby cat leaps onto the open window screen chasing Birds in the dark the screen falls out so does Gus waking me from a coarse slumber one leg on and one leg off I tumble into my wheel chair rolling far enough to reach the fallen Screen
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CAUGHT SPEEDING
SHIFT CHANGE — He was running away he said, when we pulled him over. I asked him from what, thinking maybe there had been a bar fight after closing, though he didn’t look beat up. He had been going over 120 in an 80-kilometer zone. — I wet the bed he replied. — What? —
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JUST A TAD SHORT
Tired of looking for something to read I’ve challenged my subconscious, to write a story at the very leash some flash fiction that thrives on made up and pretend stuff you know characters that aren’t like you much and you don’t much like me. So an antagonist then, not a protagonist. Tad and Lilly,
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INTUITION
I IS FOR INTUITION (AND LOTTA OTHER THINGS) INTUITION This is your guess the next will be OPEN TUNING my body my wound so tightly wound around my brain vibrates receiving ideas like starlings murmurer swing into every open neuron
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WISH
For now, this poem I wrote today stays here on my website. I’ve no interest in debate, or signalling virtue, though I may change my mind. I admire Duncan Mercredi and others, who do put themselves on Facebook accepting the vulnerability of speaking publicly. ~ At the end of our family meetings when we were
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The Mad Phoenician Meets Julia Kristeva
BEGINNING AGAIN I have been writing the Abject Alphabet since the 1980s, after Kroetsch’s Sad Phoenician, I must be the Mad Phoenician I thought. I met Julia Kristeva when she was promoting a novel which I’ve since given away. I discovered my friend Peter Dueck (rhymes with dew ick) was in Toronto for national meetings as I
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WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT
FAIR CONTROL My psych understood I was after “fair control,” Understand my pain will never get better. Not ever, only intensity changes. Broken up prose like this might get to be a poem but now I am waiting for four pm and my next flight of meds.I’m in wine valley, though no more for me
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