These sentences
About my new work
Are, each of them
One mini-sonnet
In 14 characters
I tell you a story
Of simple verses
Built minimally
An introduction
To a wee tiny poem
Published today
By literary site
Neutral Spaces.
& all its friends
These sentences
About my new work
Are, each of them
One mini-sonnet
In 14 characters
I tell you a story
Of simple verses
Built minimally
An introduction
To a wee tiny poem
Published today
By literary site
Neutral Spaces.
& all its friends
I’ve been enjoying litmag prompts and themes as inspiration for poetry. My last two published poems were both thematic, though very different.
My poem, The Unbuilt Dollhouse, delves into plans I made, on the smallest scale, for a life I couldn’t have. It was published in the Haunted Dollhouse section of Kristin Garth‘s tiny journal, Pink Plastic House.
The other is about dinosaurs. Why? Because they’re awesome. The Dolichorhynchops at the Royal Ontario Museum is about, well, the dolichorhynchops at the Royal Ontario Museum. It was published by The Daily Drunk as part of their dinosaur prompt.
My odd little poem, The Last Episode, is live at The Daily Drunk. It’s about The Office, Lost and Dante’s Inferno.
I’m still writing, still publishing. I’ve been overwhelmed, so I’ve been forgetting to post. ADHD/PTSD in a pandemic is a heckuva thing.
BUT! I’ve had a few things published recently.
My short non-fiction piece, All Ten Provinces and Both Territories, has been published in Flash Nonfiction Food: 91 Very Delicious, Very True, Very Short Stories by Woodhall Press. This essay recalls a time I traded something precious for something necessary. It’s also about how delicious pizza is when your belly is empty.
My poem, In Patient, is featured in litmag Serotonin. It’s an oldie, written about 20 years ago while I was an inpatient at a mental health facility. Challenges related to my mental health contributed to the long pause between writing and publishing this poem. Publishing isn’t accessible to neurodiverse and disabled people, in part because it wasn’t built for us. Indie publishers like Serotonin are creating spaces built for us, by us and because of that, pieces like this can find a home. I’m grateful for the small shifts, but it does make me want more change, bigger change.
I will try to post again soon. Until then, may you find the eye of the storm and take a deep breath.
My poem, On Watching Him Work From Home, is now part of Lydia Horne‘s ongoing archive of micro-reflections on the pandemic, Pandemic Prose. Like a living anthology, this project allows people to share, in 100 words or less, the everyday oddness of right now.
A bite-sized poem of mine was published today by the delightful folks at Quatrain Fish. Called A Terrible Poem, I hope it doesn’t quite live up to its name.
My poem, Like Cherries, is free to read at Malarkey Books. In it I explore one of the best days my partner and I had while experiencing homelessness in Toronto. It seems the right time for it to come out, as we are all of us trying to find our own best days in hard times.
Be well, and enjoy the poem.
I am glad you wore yellow today
When the sky and the clouds
Are a nebulous grey
I do not know you so I do not say
I am glad you wore yellow today
I am glad you wore yellow today
Just for yourself
While we’re hidden away
Yellow is sunshine and yellow is play
So I’m glad you wore yellow today

Pandemic Prose is an in-the-moment reflection on us, now. Created by WIRED’s Lydia Horne, it’s an organic archive of a global event. My poem, Shipped, is a part of it.
(CW: Pandemic, poverty, unsolicited advice)
Poet and professor Orchid Tierney has organized a virtual reading series called Distāntia. She calls it “an experimentation with intimate social distancing through remote access poetry.”
My poem is about the value that people who are often forgotten bring to a crisis. The wisdom of survival doesn’t always wear a three piece suit. Sometimes it wears a Chewbacca onesie and hides out in its blanket fort, thank you very much.
