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Saturday, 2 December 2017

The Emerald

Scattered amid plumeria and orchids,
dandelions, once a pesky weed, 
the barnacle of the garden,
now animate the earth, 
velvet summer adjacent to
aged rosewoods bearded in moss, 
the fragrant scent of pollen 
transformed into wine and salad greens.
I cast a thousand wishes through the winds of time,
my fortune of seeds dispersed across the forest floor –
the emerald returns
to prune through tufts of feathery florets and
build its nest in soft dandelion and honeysuckle. 
In the fervent flash of hummingbirds you rise,
spirit aflutter in their wings. 
I turn your ashes anew – 
you are here,
salt from the sea washed ashore.

In memory of my beautiful grandmother who loved hummingbirds. The emerald is a type of hummingbird.

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Silent Grey

snowed in with poetry
an open window
on the night sky

dances with trees
the movement of verse
through my heartbeat

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

All That We Are

 Thank you     
for this time
this gift 
this breath of now 
Losing ourselves
into the zen of the moment
and the beauty of language
dreams within and beyond 
the full infinity 
we are privileged to be part of 
the way words open us to the mystery 
and divine power of who we are
the most real truth
the sanctity of inner peace.

Monday, 2 October 2017

Reading A Tribute to Orange in New West

Video of Me Reading at the Long Poem Event

A Tribute to Orange 

the changing leaves 
in the cherry tree by my balcony
welcoming cooler mornings
of coffee and cream, 
the moon in harvest time
tea and tiny cakes, 
my first Mid-Autumn Festival
in an apartment in Burnaby
as I tutored students in poetry,

the generosity of the girls 
serving me with two open palms
and sending me home with extra 

the colour of the tie-dyed skirt 
I admired in the window 
of a high end Granville shop
forty-five dollars I didn’t have 
that whole summer
years later I returned 
and purchased an orange top at Roots
that I wear with the memory 
of the window skirt 
from the summer of ‘97
when I had been sleeping 
on two separating couch cushions 
in a smoky basement
amazed at the possibility 
of a new life in BC
the first time I saw 
a four dollar coffee
spending all of 
what I had left of my savings 
on beverages at Starbucks
for the family that housed me 
in their basement
the light of the sun 
as I purchased my first book in BC 
Timothy Findley’s Memory 
at a second-hand store on Granville
eight dollars a shock –
eight times more than what we charged 
at the Book Market in my old hood
and totally worth every last dollar

the hue of fall 
when I returned to BC for work
and the moon I fell in love under
in my thirties off Commercial Drive
my Wiccan boyfriend 
singing tunes to the spirits
through all nighters and essays
student teaching
and me falling in love 
despite the fact he was leaving 

the embers in a film 
I saw in kindergarten
how they held me in meditation
the first time I lost myself 
into a moving image
like I had with the orange and yellow angel 
in the Advent calendar
I stared at her so long
perhaps seeking 
my spirit self
the shaman within

the colours of the healing chakra light
in my raven dream 
sparks of yellow and orange 
as children danced 
safely in a circle 
and my spirit protected them
my calling to become raven
he didn’t miss the colours at all
he is all of them

the pencil I chose for the triangles 
in my grade eight math book
the notebook I sat up 
in the early morning 
redoing in bed
in fear it was not neat enough 
the first time
the light orange shade calming 
my anxiety and post traumatic stress disorder 

the piece of cloth
we got for two dollars in Montreal
covered in stars 
and the candle I got to match
how I imagined it 
as the floor of the mud hut
in my first novel of street life
before it travelled with me into videos 
of loss and healing
and finally the student productions of 
Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream

the colour of the first image
I imagined in French
when I was tutoring a beloved student
who could read my mind 

the shiny hue I chose 
for my first pedicure
and admired all summer 
barefoot at English Bay
soft sand between white toes
and a rhinestone that I valued 
like a diamond

October in the Elgin Street Park
where my grandparents met
the roses my Australian friend painted
when I presented them to her 
a hostess gift for the home cooked dinner, 
preceding their children’s evening recital

my favourite Cotton Ginny shirt
my grandparents bought me in Florida 
the day we sampled fresh squeezed juice 
in tiny cups from the back of the truck
my grandma’s adoration even richer
than all the light of Miami 

the cover of my beloved
Alice Walker poetry book
painted like the walls
of my Thirteenth Avenue apartment

the glow of the neighbor’s porch light 
through rain
amber warmth reflected in puddles
like Paris café candles in the night

the first colour I see
mixed with violet
when I close my eyes

Saturday, 2 September 2017


Surrender to the rich tangerine reflection
that perfect moment
when the water itself is the colour of sky 
and you fall into it
beyond three dimensions 
to the winding curves of dream time

Wednesday, 2 August 2017

For All Our Dreams

The white misted sky opens 
to reveal a cerulean canvas,
bluebells in the wind,
ladybugs in lavender.
The strength of spring unfolds into summer,
shedding fears with the retreating winter.
Like butterflies returned from the future,
spirits flying ahead, 
we go forward to answer our calling.

Sunday, 2 July 2017


the shade of orange in the petals of a flower
the scent of summer in the sea
the beach on a Tuesday evening
ions in the waves
all the paths I choose
sand beneath my feet
the sense of eternity 
we find in dreaming

Thursday, 1 June 2017


delicate droplets mist new leaves

cherry blossoms flutter like butterflies
for all of the things in the world on edge
immerse yourself amid the petals
the exquisiteness of light

Saturday, 29 April 2017

Trusting the Sacred Within

it’s all in the shade of a blossom
the mystical flow of spring  
the way spiderwebs shimmer 
in evening light 

ever in process
content with the pace
allowing ourselves
to breathe outside

Friday, 7 April 2017

A Favourite Selection from Guest Poet & Reader Mike Mercer

"Spring" from William Blake's "Songs of Innocence" has been selected by guest poet and reader Mike Mercer to welcome in National Poetry Month
Sound the Flute!
Now it’s mute
Birds delight
Day and Night
In the dale
Lark in Sky
Merrily Merrily to welcome in the Year
Little Boy
Full of joy
Little Girl
Sweet and small
Cock does crow
So do you
Merry voice
Infant noise
Merrily Merrily to welcome in the Year
Little Lamb
Here I am
Come and lick
My white neck
Let me pull
Your soft Wool
Let me kiss
Your soft face
Merrily, merrily, we welcome in the year

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

Light Come to Life

Here, by the scent of cedar
in late afternoon sun
I will wait forever.

Sunday, 12 March 2017

Fall Beauty by Guest Poet Alex Penz

leafless trees
little rustles of wind
bells from nearby cities
cold wind 
rustling through our clothes

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

Earth Medicine

When sunlight permeates rainforest winter
and blackbirds ascend from violet bark,
soft clouds drift into ancient dragonflies 
moving like wind across the sky.

On those rare days
when the blue in the raven’s wings
shines in the light,
go through the open doors.

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

Feathers Glide with Artwork by Wendy Bullen Stephenson

we give each other words
as gifts in the night
somnambulant boats
like ghosts in pink mist
quiet as sea air
the possibility of new stories