He buys used books not thrillers or novels or the soft porn favoured by his ilk but rather picture books for a budding blonde six years old and a thousand miles away He reads to her on the phone every second night and tries to make his voice into the bright illustrations of lion’s paws […]
That not-quite-autumn evening, the day after she came to us, we were called to a neighbour’s yard to witness a rare and wondrous city sight, a porcupine, dark shape in the branches of a crab-apple tree. We saw the bristling spikes the clinging toes the silent gasping mouth and the hopelessness of descent of that […]
space between imaginary lines marking our mountains from theirs, separating our scraggly unshaven spruce from those beyond the thin boundry scars of transit and time Big, like our womenbuilt for birthing and beating Big this place, the boreal crosshatch of powerlines and leaseholds the oily after-scent of second day clothes the distance between pumpjacks and […]
