#CanadianWriters
Living backwards means only I must suffer everything twice. Those picnics were already loss: with the dragonflies and the clear… What good did it do me to know
He, who navigated with success the dangerous river of his own bir… once more set forth on a voyage of discovery into the land I floated on
He would like not to kill. He wou… what he imagines other men have, instead of this red compulsion. Wh… fail him and die badly? He would l… finger by finger and with great te…
Those whose houses were burned burned houses. What else ever happ… once you start? While the roofs plunged into the root-filled cellars,
She has been condemned to death by… may escape this death by becoming… woman by marrying the hangman. But… time there is no hangman; thus the… There is only a death, indefinitel…
In the secular night you wander ar… alone in your house. It’s two-thir… Everyone has deserted you, or this is your story; you remember it from being sixteen…
Gone are the days when you could walk on water. When you could walk. The days are gone. Only one day remains,
Love is not a profession genteel or otherwise sex is not dentistry the slick filling of aches and cav… you are not my doctor
Confess: it’s my profession that alarms you. This is why few people ask me to d… though Lord knows I don’t go out… I wear dresses of sensible cut
It was taken some time ago. At first it seems to be a smeared print: blurred lines and grey flec… blended with the paper;
Starspangled cowboy sauntering out of the almost– silly West, on your face a porcelain grin, tugging a papier-mache cactus
Evening comes on and the hills thi… red and yellow bleaching out of th… The chill pines grow their shadows… Below them the water stills itself… a sunset shivering in it.
You’re sad because you’re sad. It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s… Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeles… you need to sleep.
This is the plum season, the night… blue and distended, the moon hazed, this is the season of peach… with their lush lobed bulbs that glow in the dusk, apples
In the burned house I am eating b… You understand: there is no house,… yet here I am. The spoon which was melted scrapes… the bowl which was melted also.
