I am 25 and timeless. Find myself hoping for a snow day still, after all this time. Insulated by the panting breath of the wood stove, heated to my marrow, the heat that penetrates every cell and tissue warm with familiarity and the scent of burning bark and cinders. I nest here downstairs, nap away the evening after my first day of actual school ( Read more... )

Just when I'd piled up a stack of new books to add to my old pile of "Should read these soon". Just when I work up the intention and motivation, school comes along and thrusts its pages of required reading into my lap. I can't help but be a little let down by it all ( Read more... )

A few days in St. John's and weather that is barely winter. Speed back across the rocky scab of the Avalon, caught in a heaving chest of wind. Trees low and sparse, lichen like shaggy tufts of hair. The whole place seems made from the skin of a mangy dog. Barren and barely habitable, grey and wrinkled. But somewhere in rock undulations there is a ( Read more... )

Last night the period to the longest run-on sentence of my life. Sentance myself to something more substantial this year. Make change, invent some new happiness. Reacquaint myself with progress ( Read more... )

The snow is light, powdery. Water turned into the finest snow. You can blow it off rails and cars, explode it into the air like a thought. It circles back on itself in the air, curls as it falls and makes me think about being immersed in a stream and the different between air an water. Me and a fish or whale or seal ( Read more... )

I've cut my silhouette out of the darkness of night. Filled it with wet asphalt to shimmer like a constellation. Made myself of only points and imagined lines, some invisible connection defining my shape. Flattened it against tire treads in snow, pressed it into slush valleys. My self, smooth, lies against ground, glides in circuits relative ( Read more... )

When I was in kindergarten we had an invention, something the teacher called a 'Word Bank'. We had to come into class every day with at least one new word we could define and spell. Once we demonstrated this we would put the word into our word bank. It was some small laminated cardboard lexicon, empirical evidence of our vocabularies. Most days I ( Read more... )

Screaming through all this whiteness I feel like it's harder to be heard. Like somewhere under all this scrunching of feet on new-fallen snow there is a whisper that I am missing. All the sounds of the world drowning out the ones you need to press an ear to to hear. Subtlety now conveyed in shapes and curves, not in details and colour ( Read more... )

We're all leaning towards love, like some blanket to keep us warm through winter. And we'll lean that way forever, pulling sheets off laundry lines, lying in them, looking for sun spots and grass stains and company ( Read more... )

Just so we have this clear:
Who decided to shape all the garbage in Corner Brook so that it looks like animals late at night?
Weird.