hot box motel

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3 a.m. i’m in a hot box motel in Merritt. the lights in the bathroom don’t work and i lie awake and wonder why. the kids are asleep directly next door and i wonder about a serial killer who vanishes them in the middle of this night. construct a narrative. i turn to the window. … Read more

weeping woman

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  Weeping Woman (Dora Maar) by Grace Nichols   14. Picasso, I want my face back the unbroken photography of it   once, I lived to be stroked by the fingers of your brushes   Now I see I was more an accomplice to my own uprooting   Watching the pundits gaze open-mouthed at your … Read more

tapely (THE GLOBE)

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music drives my writing.  and, for your listening pleasure, a mixed tape that inspired my short story collection: https://tapely.com/the-globe

bauhaus, the obscure

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i dig Bauhaus. one of my favourite novels is by William Boyd titled THE BLUE AFTENOON and there’s a discussion of this architectural style, and it is from this novel that my interest in the Bauhaus School was born. i’m no expert. i just love the angles and an attempt at simplicity that’s harder than … Read more

scorched earth

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there’s an artist in LA called Mark Bradford and he creates oversized pictures out of canvas and paper and paint. he calls his work “social abstraction” or abstract art with a social context “clinging to the edges”. (p.3) i can buy that; art should do more than one thing. the painting above is titled ‘Scorched … Read more

my dad

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after Dad retired from the RCMP he had a rough re-entry into civilian life as a realtor, where you had to explain yourself. he was used to acting with authority in public. although he wasn’t much of a cook, he loved cooking stir fry in a big wok. golf was his church. he had a … Read more

first lines (voice)

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Stephen King says first lines are all about voice. i think a first line is knocking on the door. and i ask: who is there for me? will the door be thrown open with abandon? left ajar for me to enter at my own speed? or is there no one waiting? let me check the … Read more

the centre of the universe

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i’m camped out, third floor of a condominium complex, two flights up from a parking lot overflowing with white diesel work trucks. a mattress set rests on the floor, my bed. the wheels of my suitcase are anointed with red dust. this is a sacred place. it’s hanging in the air like smoke; i feel … Read more