Postcards from Abroad
The postcard arrived…at first I just stared at the photograph. I didn’t’ have to turn it over to know who sent it. Well not exactly who, but an assumption that the card came from the same person who...
View ArticleYou Can’t Quit
My father’s most humble, seething servant and thou shitted stool, (Gaze upon inserted photograph of your Holiness hugging a tree) I wish to bestow upon you a gift which will serve as a comfort to you...
View ArticleMorning
Mumbling percolates downstairs. Staccato chops, chattering, clattering and cupboards slamming. A morning tantrum with pots and pans. The exaggerated sighs as the dishwasher door opens and closes....
View ArticleStuck
I can’t write. Sometimes piss and vinegar. Sometimes sludge. I’m sitting waiting. I need a manic panic, a flurry, a rust remover, a cause to feel applause. That elusive inspiration to rant, a...
View ArticleBeige
A rogue, beige sock appeared in the laundry today. Beige sock tried to shoe its way across the threshold of the children’s bedrooms, the children recoiled and winced. I hang garlands of garlic around...
View ArticlePoop Deck Chronicles
Head Games…or Nautical Nastiness Day 1: Monday August 3 Sailing from Cordova Bay over to South Pender Island, Bedwell harbour. The depth sounder gives out and we jimmy it back and forth trying for a...
View ArticleWhat Did You Do Today?
Fade In: INT. KITCHEN: Husband #1 ( I’m thinking this character title creates suspense …is it her only husband? will she remarry? Is it in fact her husband at all? ) Anyhow, he enters into shabby...
View ArticleBoston Bombing
I can’t write. I’m saddened by the Boston bombing. I know that all over the world far from our normally placid and relatively safe and rich countries, tragedies such as this are a regular occurrence...
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The Money Womb
He was born with the face of an asshole and came out like any fighter would, fist first. “That’s my boy!” sputtered Du; a man with a face like a slapped ass and whose acrid stench suffused the...
View ArticleThe Money Womb: Chapter Two
I was born with a full set of teeth and bit my mother’s flesh exiting into the new world. I didn’t yell because of the bright lights, cold room or the hurly-burly threatening to shatter my zen. I...
View ArticleWe Will Miss You (in memory of my brother Chris)
Well it’s early morning and I just can’t sleep It’s cold outside and it feels like heat Had a premonition that haunts me still Shared with no one, it’d make it real The phone cries out and I hide my...
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Chapter Three: The Money Womb
Du grabbed a two liter bottle of cola and doused the flaming Asshole who sat melting a hole in the center of the orange shag carpet. Asshole grinned through the steam as Karma ordered the two...
View ArticleThe Money Womb: Chapter Four
The spontaneous combustion gig, I promise you, does not arise out of any particular desire to avoid intimacy with my inherited family. If I am to compete with the two one-celled organisms for...
View ArticleThe Money Womb: Chapter Five
Like a wayward canine, Gastric bypass tracked a line of mud and grass through the hospital hallways. It had been a long, long couple of weeks. His wife, a closet dictator and pedantic woman, hid...
View ArticleYou Can’t Quit
My father’s most humble, seething servant and thou shitted stool, (Gaze upon inserted photograph of your Holiness hugging a tree) I wish to bestow upon you a gift which will serve as a comfort to you...
View ArticleMorning
Mumbling percolates downstairs. Staccato chops, chattering, clattering and cupboards slamming. A morning tantrum with pots and pans. The exaggerated sighs as the dishwasher door opens and closes....
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