READ SELECTED WORKS

The first time you saw 

a baby robin

beneath an oak tree

did it leave a mark

on you

that no one can see

Very Small Verse Contest winner

League of Canadian Poets

March 2024

"Where shall we put the bodies, sir,..."

In: Creativity and Coronavirus, Reckoning Press. SEP 2021.

In: SAPP Magazine, May 2024

 SAPP | a poetry zine – where modern meets grunge. (sappzine.ca) 

Driving home in the dark, 

cold rain tapping 

and splattering the windshield, 

I saw her again 

It was only the form of her -

body bent forward, 

pushing the cart 

an oversized coat swallowing her 

Still, I knew it was her 

from the shoes 

sodden, laces untied 

the sloppy step of them 

heavy and slow 

I slowed down, looked again, then again, 

the front wheel of my car 

sliding just so, 

over the yellow line 

The rest of the way home I thought, 

what are you doing here 

and not as in, you don’t belong here 

but more so, 

why 

Why do you have sodden shoes 

as heavy as bricks 

and a soaked coat that 

pulls you down further 

and why the pushing, pushing, 

always it seems, uphill 

As I pulled into the driveway of my warm home, 

the vision of you followed me inside 

and I wondered where you went 

with your cart, full to the point of tipping 

of long, wet, heavy sticks 

"He slurps his black coffee..."

Winner of Vancouver Island Regional Library Poetry in Your Pocket contest, Spring 2021.

"Who knew cotton..."

In Drunk Monkeys Magazine. APR 2021.

"When the long drought comes,..."

In Reckoning 2, Reckoning Press. 2017.