Dear Dad Now that you are dead I thought it time to have a chat That chat You know, the one that ends with you owning up   Dear Dad Your words of apology I dreamt last night or some other week Are refused It’s…

Mother Tongue   I never forgot this language— the way my tongue should roll when I pronounce the words   The accent and expressions grab the phrases strongly   The sentences slip out of my mouth with an ease   The pen doesn’t fumble when…

Hang your head, the preacher man said. There is a hole, within your soul, and, you better fix it, before you’re dead. Amen, the choir sang. Amen, the crowd chanted. Amen, the church bells rang. Amen, the sinners recanted. Holy Rolling comes hard to me….

Manifest the buoyancy of breath beyond time, beyond the whispers of those before and those not quite yet. A place where substance originates as shadow and symbols are dismantled within the tears of mankind. The place where light is not luminescence but an absence of…

she came with accessories, baubles actually and a blue-striped-green swirly sash. her smile spoke, you don’t know me yet but you should. Yet, I sat silent to the corner, wondering, were those her eyes, or, contacts made to match her skirt. They roamed about, scanning…

I drew the lines from memory, tactile impressions etched in hours, days of fingertips tracing, longing to navigate the depth of her solution, lost within the maze of replication and ink and flesh She claimed her birthright of goddess and I allowed her my admiration…

Barricuda cruising on the street Radio blaring Motown beat Streetlights flashing got the speed She’s beside me smoking weed Dancing wiggly on the bucket Slow down baby I say fuck it Wheeling hungry asphalt road Sipping whiskey taste the toad Back seat spanky mutual fun…

If I were to sometime see you dance, I know my heart would sing, perhaps once the circumstance, betwixt between and everything Never once have I thought it through, but now the ends in sight You creating the maid mist’s view and me, the wandering…

Our left hands clasped in firm embrace      chowilawu, whites use the right to show disarmament      we use the left because it is closest to the heart Our right hands went to the heart within our chests      this is your…

She lived in East Vancouver, or, Edmonton, or, Winnipeg, or, Toronto She left the Rez when at thirteen. Young, thin, single, beautiful and battered. It’s said she met the pig farmer once, but to this day no one knows that for sure. She was last…