A side look, a lingering glance,
a smile to acknowledge my existence
gives me strength to overcome my awkwardness and approach.
Was this yesterday, or decades ago?
The years have swirled into a ball of time and I can’t discern when my heart was not yours.
Orange-red hovers the horizon,
warming the cool morning
walk through the woods ritual.
Continue reading “A Morning Walk”
The needle brings colour where once was flesh.
The artist’s commission is bloody and fresh. He sits patiently and sees it unfold.
Continue reading “A Painter of Skin”
The rusting carcasses of the steel mills where the sweat of the ironworkers ran like the rushing waterfalls of the city line the shores.
Continue reading “Home to Hamilton”