Just a poem that came to me today, a day in which I’m opening space here in Prince George: The sense of things I have seen the texture of space felt the sound of silence, falling in a wide open offering tasted hesitancy and the sweetness of light touching time we sense into the most astonishing places together, you and I into the tight cracking of possibility screaming for release we let the humour of despair rest on our tongues, choke our eyes with tears and scour our nostrils with tendrils of acrid smoke. we walk together in circles dizzy …
From whiskey river today: The Artist’s Duty So it is the duty of the artist to discourage all traces of shame To extend all boundaries To fog them in right over the plate To kill only what is ridiculous To establish problem To ignore solutions To listen to no one To omit nothing To contradict everything To generate the free brain To bear no cross To take part in no crucifixion To tinkle a warning when mankind strays To explode upon all parties To wound deeper than the soldier To heal this poor obstinate monkey once and for all To …