We’re a week into 2024 and my new year rhythms are still being formed, still cooling on the countertop. I’m not a fan of resolutions but do love a good …
Welcome to my blog, called
Moondance: Musings on Sex, Love, and Finding Your Path.
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Feet dangle from ankles and toes dust the floor, all except the pinky ones. Is that what the little toes are called? I’m loose and more than a little …
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The sierra is skin and seeds It grows as you see it Pink and curved like a wet flower Bigger than life Through the garden and the apricot trees Water hose coiled like a …
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My Orange Beauties His tawny orange eyebrows match the shade of his hair. It’s the same colour as the vintage Navajo earrings he scoops into my hands. They’re made …
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Some writers begin their work with a prayer, and some turn off their Wi-Fi. Others enter the flow when the kids are sleeping. Like Sylvia Plath, like so many women. …
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After parking the vehicle a few blocks from the venue, we take an inaugural selfie and scamper down Queen Street. The early evening sun dapples our faces as we …
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It’s not a happy cry. It comes from below the surface, where the ovens line up for us. They do that. But the oven isn’t simply about the end or …
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Ojibway poet Richard Wagamese begins his magnificent book of meditations called Embers by saying: “Mornings have become my table.” Like the table, his life has been battered and scarred but also full …