Retirement Planet

It was a quiet Sunday morning, the skies grey and dripping, so Gerald decided to skip his morning walk. Instead, he settled into his favourite armchair with a hot cup of tea and his favourite book, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Gerald picked up the book, caressing the spine and the worn yellow-leafed pages … Continued

Trouble in Paradise

As far as intergalactic super spiders go, Trevor was pretty mediocre. Standing at three meters tall and weighing as much as a Toyota Camry, Trevor was average size. He put on his spider soldier suit one leg at a time. His wife, Carol, was neither tremendously beautiful nor fascinatingly ugly. She was quite regular for … Continued


Autumn evening calls, it’s after dinner and we are out the door. It’s dark and it doesn’t matter. Innocent energy unfurls, high-tops hit pavement, full tilt. We run and run through the neighbourhood; jump fences, sneak through side-yards. A labyrinth of cat-walks and cul-de-sacs. The Block Watch patrols and peeks out front windows. Lungs puff … Continued


The sun rises late in the morning and sets early in the evening, a sign that autumn is departing, with its bright colours and crisp leaves, as winter arrives with cold mornings and dark nights. I shiver as I walk to the library, longing for comfort. Warm air encompasses me as I step inside, my … Continued


Have you seen the dark at Wounded Knee? Have you seen queens and kings who sing and act in glorious beauty? I have. I have seen queens and they are beautiful. They transcend with raven hair and coffee toes. They rise from caramel and milk chocolate skin and toffee and cedar and ooligan grease. Yes, … Continued

The velvet flag

I jingled the keys to my Grandmother’s house as we walked up the driveway. The heritage house in Esquimalt sat neglected. There were more weeds than gravel. Some kids had impaled a pumpkin lantern on the wrought iron fence; rusted spikes pierced through the orange flesh. Once yellow and white, it was in bad need … Continued

Burial Rites

Don’t bury me in a cemetery below the pockmarked blocks that romanticize the forgotten. Bury me next to an abandoned school where memories of younger days mix with decay. Bury me next to a lighthouse wherein the dark light can still be seen. Bury me next to a waterfall where what has fallen still continues … Continued


To my naïve generation, yielding, too inexperienced for truth. Politics, panic, purgatory yet untouched. We hardly know love from lust. To my gullible generation, unthinking, with media’s unending hiss. Bidders buy young minds. Convinced to believe anything we don’t believe in ourselves. To my angry generation, rebelling, with misplaced red rage. Misdirected feelings lash. Who … Continued

Ode to Morning

Nighttime sighs her last goodbyes, Sweet sunlight trickles in. I’ve never moved my arm so fast, This alarm makes such a din. My muscles ache, my eyelids burn, Don’t ask about my head. If I must do this every day– I wish that I were dead. Why, oh why, I moan, I cry, As stumbling … Continued

Two poems

November Rose Your friend cried because she was too busy to get sick, you dropped everything and crossed the room to kiss her forehead. I longed to catch her cold and wished I knew how to cry. Your taxi never came because I got the address wrong. I hated that I made you wait in … Continued

Dear Mr. Christianson

The letter I should have wrote to Mr. Christianson: Thank you for going to bat for me, for bending the rules, for talking the principal into letting me graduate even though technically, I had too many absences, for seeing my talent and telling me I had it, for knowing that I needed a break and … Continued


In Nanaimo, I take a cab to work. I spend the midnight shift serving subs, Japa-dogs, and gourmet poutine, to the slurring, swaying, bar crowd crying out for more pickles, less pickles, no onions, more sauce please, this isn’t what I ordered. But on my days off, I take a bus to work, ask for … Continued


Yannis skipped the line with the appropriate aplomb, glancing over his shoulder to notice it stretch down the block. He shook the hand of the head bouncer, Rufus, who was about the largest, ruddiest Englishman outside the world of professional rugby. He hugged the squat, balding promoter Pablo Carlito Jiminez, and sauntered into the venue. … Continued

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