For the past six years, in this blog, I have written quite frequently about my mother. Her perogies, her love for ice cream, her dignity in the face of illness. My mother is my muse. My mother Vera died last Friday January 11. Mama has appeared in all of my 5 books. When visiting,…

I’m up at 7 this grey November morning, making muffins. I’ve got a latte at my side, early morning radio turned on. The determinedly cheery CBC hosts are prattlling on about football, weather and our country’s newer, more-racist-than-ever refugee laws. My roommate comes downstairs and sniffs the air warily. Hmmm. You baking? She never…

UPDATE. YOUR. BLOG!!! he whispered loudly, intimately in my ear. We were at a drag queen bar on Church Street. I was tired, achey, and exhilarated. I’d just escaped the dusty realm of my mind (we’re talkin marking season, folks). I had attended a performance of spoken word poets, two of whom are my…