Two weeks ago, Taylor Mali, who has already made an appearance in these “pages,” was the keynote speaker for our annual ped day. In the afternoon, he led a poetry workshop, and the previous entry is the result of that session. Having had two weeks to digest, I have made a few changes to the lines, and they appear in a different order than that in which they were written.
For many of the lines, Mali gave us a prompt, such as “I remember…”, and our task was to complete the sentence. Many of us shared our work at the end of the workshop, and it was a wonderful experience.
I was a big fan of Mali’s before the ped day, and he did not disappoint.
Once when I was naked I became utterly fascinated by the undulations of my belly as my unborn son moved within me.
You should probably know that I constantly promise myself that I will be a better parent tomorrow, and I constantly let myself down.
I remember when we moved, and I rode in the backseat of the van with my mother driving, and my infant sister strapped into a dresser drawer on the front seat.
Before I knew how to drive, I used to devote a lot of time to figuring out how to get my mother to drive me places she didn’t want to go.
My childhood was an elegant orange ten-speed bike that pinged as stones hit the spokes as I raced down dirt roads that really were better suited to a sturdy mountain bike.
I remember the awful pause after the minister said “as you stand before us, about to be married, think again…”
I’m not interested in how many times you jumped out of a plane before we met; what I want to know is will you still hold my hand, after all these years, as we walk down the street.
I remember the first time I felt a baby move inside me, and the hum he used to make when I fed him.
You should probably know that your commitment to learning will take you a lot further than any one thing you actually learn.
Dr. T and I are trying to get into the habit of recording our impressions of the wines we try – mainly because we keep forgetting whether or not we like Wine X. Also, since the official tasting notes typically ignore us non-meat eaters, we figured we needed way to keep track of the vegetarian pairing possibilities.
All of which is to say that I’ve updated The Communal Kitchen, and I’ll try to do so more regularly. Since we’re doing the whole wine thing, I have created a new category, Wining & Dining, in which our “reviews” will be posted (I can’t help the quotation marks – let’s face it, most of these “reviews” will be written halfway into the bottle, so remarks may be occasionally incoherent).
Comments and suggestions more than welcome!
Last year I wrote a haiku, inspired by the autumn leaves on the road. This year, I give you the following:
One haiku per year
Is all I manage to squeeze
Out, damn syllable.
As promised, or threatened, depending on your point of view, I have started putting together some of my writing from days gone by. “The Moving Blues,” which first appeared in the Vanier Phoenix more than a dozen years ago, is the first of these.
I plan to post some of my fiction as well, assuming I don’t make myself gag in the process of retyping it.
How to Disorganize Your Life in Four Easy Steps
Imagine, if you will, a young couple. They have been seeing each other for about two years, and have decided to take the BIG STEP: living together. Shudders of morality aside, let’s take a look at the worst part of the relationship to date – the one thing that can destroy your happiness, not to mention your back. The Move.
Continue reading “The Moving Blues”
Originally published in the Vanier Phoenix, 1991.
It seems to me that the President of the United States of America, a.k.a. the “leader of the Western world,” should be able to afford at least one advisor well-versed in Middle Eastern affairs and diplomacy.
Continue reading “The (Gulp) War”
See Hiroshima leaves on the road bed
Winter is a-comin’ in.