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Facing Down Hurricane Fury
It took Hurricane Melissa, a wretched, wanton witch whom I narrowly escaped to get me writing again, so though it is good to be here, I’d have been glad for some other motivation. If suffering Hurricane Melissa from afar was traumatic, any attempt to represent the suffering in the places she obliterated defies language. I…
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Is Writing Poetry Hard? (2)
I used to blog, when the going was good, as often as one post a day. I’m not sure how I did it. I don’t write slowly but I do go over and over what I write. I suppose I feel that one can never be too cautious, or too picky. I’m not just talking…
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The Rub
I never wanted to be a writer. Talk the truth, I never thought about what I wanted to be, apart from a mad wish to be a ballet dancer, one time, when I was very young. I let it go when it became clear that I didn’t have what it takes, and I came to…
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[Not] Turning Up to Write…
Martin, my late husband, managed to do this. Every day. He’d wake early, say his prayers and then sit a his desk and write. All the advice given to aspiring writers tells them this is de rigueur: spend an hour or two a day, at least attempting to write, even is you don’t get many…
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Back again…
So, here I am, back for the first time since July 2022. Am I done with grieving Martin, partner of fifty-four years, father of three children that made it and two who didn’t, brilliant storyteller, superb photographer and best of beta readers? I don’t think I will stop grieving. Ever. I can’t talk about being a…
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Corona, corona , all over Kanata…
One of my siblings has COVID. Tested positive on home test. Not immunocompromised. Complete regimen of shots. Thinks the priest presiding at grandpikni’s baptism may have given the gift. (Priest has since tested positive.) Ten years my junior. Says last night was terrible but today is not so bad. Going into quarantine. How can I…



