I remember us in the tall
  of balconied condominiums over there.
I remember the seemingly rainbowy effect 
drawing us towards new clothes & music for sale
in exquisite gigantesque shopping malls, the
trust we will be hearing a hello, and have a nice
day tune from shop assistants at every shop door, 
where billboards above advertised albums by Beyonce, 
fragrances, and films, us becoming f...

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The Pig Butcher

Pickton pulled the trigger. 

finished her off. 

Her crime was bigger,

Left in a trough.

Squeals of delight,

Grinding her down,

Hidden from sight,

Miles from town.

Ribbons of flesh,

entrails, sinew and bone 

Minced through mesh,

Can’t hear her moan.

Empty roads wet with rain,

Deserted, discarded dead.

Silence screams p...

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Sometimes, inspiration and imagination have strange effects.

De Jeune

Swallows dive, swoon

like wind-swayed ink drops

down, and beyond the light:

swallowed by the sky,

flown blue, over

road-birds – honed

by simple flight.

Like arrows in Canada

in thunderhead afternoons:

clouds rolling, rutting hinds

in migration, pounding sand-trails,

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Black Bear

like a hobo

walking down a train track

in a slow lumbering gait

we pace with you

coming in and out of view

between dense foliage

that separates the myth

from the reality

fingers point

hushed reverent voices

intone the chant

a bear, a bear

but this is not

some overstuffed facsimile

bought in a tourist shop

this is the real deal

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totem

maple wood smoke

drifts across the pine

and firs curling

into Inuit ghosts

that pace stealthily

from tree to tree

towering totems carved with bird

wolf bear and snakehead

calling to the old gods

that we were here

we lived and died in these

ancient forests

silver river slit...

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Lair Of The Snow Spider

there are domains so deep

that no one will tread

so dark that they are blind

in these dank places

the air is still and

sound is soft and mute

into this darkness

snow falls

settling in the nooks

and crannies

dusting the branches

with its ice grasp

can you hear it

the soft sly scuttle

of a many l...

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The Hoodoos

Under Sulphur Mountain’s

sedimentary gaze,

the great Bow River

slithers like a serpent,

its milky green waters

spitting and striking

at the soft banks -

a venomous erosion

amid the cascades

foaming tumult.

The mighty Cree

etched totem poles

the size of these great

spruce and fir,

back-lit by the waning

Wolf Moon.

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The video of my Poem 'Our Silence', my hand print and my Book 'Whispers From Within' that will be placed inside the Child Abuse Monument in Canada, is featured front and centre on the StoryProject page, on the Child Abuse Monuments website. My work has been recognized by them before, and by the main person who created the Monument: a Dr. Michael C. Irving. I was also asked to do a little video ...

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