October 17, 2012 § Leave a Comment
April 1, 2012 § Leave a Comment
underneath the headline “i wanted to be a dancer, said girl killed by gangster’s bullet” was a small grainy photo.
below, the caption read “CCTV of Kala dancing happily seconds before she was shot”.
March 28, 2012 § 1 Comment
February 20, 2012 § Leave a Comment
and would a blue be as iced
would a wind know such purple skies
to have seen the orange peer though cloudless fogs
and the ice, how pink twas as sun down
i sat in the shack, above waters,
never such a simple structure
we waited for the lines to move,
for the fishes to bite
currents racing away from ontario
to St Lawrence.
how simple the gesture.
February 14, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Grandmother I have learned your language twice:
First, out of default.
Second, out of necessity.
I have never dipped my hand in the St Lawrence River,
but I picture it cold.
Out in St Lambert, they were foreign to the city
or were we?
Les Anglais, they always hear Lawrence when its Laurent or Laurence,
don’t they? They butcher it don’t they?
Here, I have used your language so,
so much so, that I have forgotten my own.
Perhaps the waters, in spring, will no longer be ice cold.
Perhaps one day, I’ll return back, one of their own.