The 12-year-old boy that lives inside of me just woke up.

My column in this week’s Winkler Morden Voice and Altona Rhineland Voice newspapers

All of this
It’s but pages
Left in the wind
Life is carried away
One sheet at a time
So fast there’s the illusion
That we live in motion
But we’re disconnected bits
We’re stop action animation
Small one second portraits
Lost in the violent gale
Of this blessed curse
We call existence

It’s nice to have a hot tub at the office for breaks.

The office zone continues to improve as we moved the click and grow into it. Lots of great light added.

i am
gut
i am
feeling
i am
buried
flat
without
topography
of any sort
i am
the plain prairie
after wildfire
stolen distinctives
leaving ash
leaving black

i am lifeless
i am empty
i am ravaged
i am managed
awaiting newness
awaiting growth

i am
waiting.

Proof that martini night happened. Espresso,  Lemon,  Orange, and Chocolate martinis… good times… brain cells were destroyed.

It’s specialty martini night. That is all.

i am three
before the acid rain of life
and mum is mum
in the way i needed her most
and now in the cold days
there are these moments
remembrances of affection
like echoes that have
found their way home
threadbare and almost silent
but still yearning absent-mindedly
for a thing that feels long lost
like a sudden warmth come over you
while passing through the chill
or that unique fragrance of lilac
mixed with cold cigarette smoke
carried like a cloak in her wake
you thought was forgotten
now the ghost of all you have left

these small unintentional gifts
these accidental offerings
a nose nuzzled into neck’s nape
an arm wrapped carelessly around you
holding you on one hip, these things
descend like manna in the desert
as you wonder –
do i still wander toward a promised land
a fairy tale myth barely believed
but held onto like a broken barrel
in a night of stormy seas…
dreams you come to live for