When we were little, still so little, Before velvet Christmas dresses Before tap shoes When our mothers were our galaxy, our milky way, our entire pattycake universe; And Little Golden Books were our imaginations’ kitten-fuzzy playgrounds; When we pulled up the fronts of our dresses Just as the photos were being taken, not out of […]
Poetry
- Poetry
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INTERIORS: A show within a show
I’m honoured to be joining Edmonton writers Cathy Hodgson, Kerry Mulholland and Amy Willans for an evening of poetry on Wednesday, Aug. 8 (7 p.m., McMullen Gallery, U of A Hospital) surrounded and inspired by beautiful, haunting new work by artist Gillian Willans. Interiors is presented by Friends of University Hospitals and also features music by harpist Bev Ross. […]
Quartet 2017 launches at the Almanac
Ordinary who would ever believe looking into your ordinary eyes could stop me from breathing; that touching your scars could transport me to the stars who would ever believe two ordinary sets of hands could cartwheel to the moon and back, and again, and back then sleep in an ordinary bed in an […]
things that open my heart
your morning beauty your eyes in civil twilight the small of your back your sweet sweet kindnesses the love in your eyes seen through my eyes your quiet magic votre chapeau blanc votre chemise bleue your willingness your hopeful your aching rocking rhythm that flicker that grin that curling in you do when we entwine your mysterious […]
river (exerpt)
to make a river proud — i do not have the tools for this. river says yes, you do, child. yes you have eyes, ears, strong hands and a fine heart. you are my beloved and i will always be proud of you.
something i wish i’d written; by bob hicok
Other Lives And Dimensions And Finally A Love Poem My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish at the same time. I think praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think staying up and waiting […]
the stars are watching you
if i could come to where you are if i could touch your shining face if i could hold your broken hand if i could sit with you in the treetops my eyes grow dim but i could sculpt you in the dark and the stars, the stars are watching you even when night is […]
friday nights in grade 8
we had no boys at our parties just tea and cribbage sometimes a bowl of bugles beatles 45s and one glass of pop each if mom was in a good mood she loves you ya ya ya 8 days a week baby it’s you we hung off each other and slowdanced a clumsy box-step shuffle […]