A video poem.
the land has changed no longer do the grandmothers pick from the wild breast of our mother we no longer move with the season with the herds since Treaty we have had to learn to find value in what the land gives us from this space where we have been placed displaced yet we find [...]
It was eleven p.m. and the electricity was out all over Connaught. The town lay smothered in blackness except for a few windows where the light of a candle or a coal-oil lamp feebly wagged a flame. But in the Connaught Hotel, John Francis Dill’s room was afire with a grand and glorious effulgence. Minutes [...]
Episode 4 of the Eater of Words podcast in which Simon Boehm interviews Arthur Slade.
Snow nothing more as cracks in the walk show through like veins under skin a sign for the kind of intimacy that buries its scars slips beneath the talk talk talk and finds its way a kind of rest like spaces left in the tracks of birds without loss without words [...]
The polar bear head at FortWhyte Alive considers the dust that coats her plastic tongue— she craves bite, dreams blood, hears a burrowing owl, sprinter, long-legged in the late afternoon. In chase, the bear's frozen jaw confesses: i would gather for you crickets, ground beetles, young mourning doves. The owl enclosure beams earthy sanctuary, damp [...]
A photo of a knit sweater.
once sewing a patch on the sleeve of an old shirt I saw you curled at my feet later I found your hibernaculum your family of gliding wonders I learned how to freeze and listen each unwinding coil an elongated whisper in the fescue you and your sisters wove down the slope around my sandals [...]
A rendition of JS Bach's Courante from Cello Suite no. 1 performed on the viola.
There’s no value in trying to work on an idea you don’t love. If you don’t love it, you’ll never make it sing. You need to love it. That’s more important than anything else I’m about to say. So. Opening the Door. “Write with the door closed, re-write with the door open.” This is a [...]