Murray Toews is a hard-working guy, devilishly modest about his talent making images. He is kind, and a good friend. He has some invisible disabilities (oops) and something physical/biological that affects his eyebrows. We met when I was publisher of Rhubarb and he was, first our Visual Arts Editor, then eventually conjuring images for our
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A DOG’S LIFE
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MISSING CONFESSION OF ST AUGUSTINE
It was regrettable, blessing the donations brought by the devil to the church by pirates, whore-masters, slave-traders, and worse. I swear the money was put to good use to feed us, and have hats, garments and distinctive robes made (employing many I would add) so needed for our public appearances, and banquets, now such an important
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The Ballad of the Children of the Czar
About my blog I will post anything and everything that pops into my head as often as I can, appropriate from my thinking. This is the most likely spot for He was the kind of guy, jokes, quotations, journal and diary entries. It is born free, as free as the wind blows (remember) which way?
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Poets’ Poker Night in Regina
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The Sad Phoenician – an advent alphabet
Robert Kroetsch entered my life in 1979, teaching the advanced creative writing workshop at the University of Manitoba. I heard him read The Sad Phoenician in 1979 the year it was published by Coach House Press. The reading was in St John’s College, the Chapel I like to think. The very same chapel in which
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