shifting

in january
she switched to graveyards
and now she moves through
empty streets –
in her waking world,
the city has only
a handful of occupants:
video store workers, some
late night janitors, security
guards, gas station attendants
peering out from behind
bullet-proof glass

some months in, she has
difficulty remembering what
the day was like with all it’s people,
and when she is confronted with it
(on the odd occasion) she finds herself
feeling squeezed in an unfamiliar fashion,
all the surrounding bodies in the sun
like many hands around her arms and legs,
a pressing on her rib cage

nocturnalized, she dreams when we wake
of her eyes becoming small, black and reflective,
of thick fur growing on her shoulders

city

In darkness a far-off whine of sirens
when the seagulls have quieted
there is the scraping
of rats behind dumpsters
with lids open like
jaws, he reaches his arm
inside the mouths,
fingers groping
for a bottleneck
he listens for the clink of glass.

apartment windows with
blinds open flicker
like so many candlewick flames
illuminated by paper lamps from ikea,
there are cacti on the ledges,
spider-plants overgrown, a cattail
twitching here and there
a figure passes,
the west end sighs with
merlot on its breath,
blowing vancouver’s
famous cherry blossoms
from their limbs -
there are haiku poems
strolling the beach
looking for vacancies
and rent-control

more closet poetry

Closet full of
old clothes and the
fabric hangs like
empty skin -
a wool sweater holds
the shape of 1998
while 2001 is a black
perfume-laced cocktail dress,
a cigarette burn in silk.
Some flat-footed summer of 1997
is birkenstock sandals,
too-small shorts and cotton T’s.
Northern BC is a corduroy jacket
with a poem folded in the pocket.
And she is a pair of jeans
with threadbare thighs.

moving

through the archives,
i step around boxes of
packed things, even my note-
book is sealed in sellotape and all
the pictures are off the walls.

pulling things out of their hiding places:
old clothes (much too small now)
wince in the light, like small
animals pulled from their holes,
while photos of a little girl
wither at the corners
when the dust has all
been blown away
there’s just naked carpet
and imprints of the furniture
i had slept in

The Archives - Cam and I

The Family Christmas Picture for 2008

october

Happy Halloween!

Zombie Apocalypse!

St.John's, NL

Halifax, NS - Photo Credit Jesse Habre

Lunenburg, NS

Peggy's Cove, NS