#CanadianWriters
Winter. Time to eat fat and watch hockey. In the pewter mo… a black fur sausage with yellow Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed… to get onto my head. It’s his
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
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…
This is a word we use to plug holes with. It's the right size fo… blanks in speech, for those red he… shaped vacancies on the page that… like real hearts. Add lace
In restaurants we argue over which of us will pay for your… though the real question is whether or not I will make you imm… At the moment only I
You walked in front of me, pulling me back out to the green light that had once grown fangs and killed me. I was obedient, but
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.
There is nothing to be afraid of, it is only the wind changing to the east, it is only your father the thunder your mother the rain
1. Men’s novels are about men. Women’s novels are about men too but from a different point of view. You can have a men’s novel with no women in it except possibly the landlady or the ho...
The eye is the organ of vision, and the third eye is no exception to that. Open it and it sees, close it and it doesn’t. Most people have a third eye but they don’t trust it. That wasn’...
The snake hunts and sinews his way along and is not his own idea of viciousness. All he wants… a fast grab, with fur and a rapid pulse, so he can take that flutter…
An other sense tugs at us: we have lost something, some key to these things which must be writings and are locked against us
Gone are the days when you could walk on water. When you could walk. The days are gone. Only one day remains,
Marriage is not a house or even a tent it is before that, and colder: The edge of the forest, the edge of the desert
This is the lair of the landlady She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. the continuous henyard