sticks & stones will break my bones
it's simple. life. & details.
sticks & stones will break my bones
moves east

spinners from alism on Vimeo.

we three lived in the little appartment building
tucked in the corner of duchess street. 
drank large pots of tea & spoke about
best times in cafes (victoria, 
montreal, vancouver), drinking
cafe au lait & drawing birthday cards,
playing writing games, (that one day
when the waiter fed us coffees & we sat
& sat for hours„,)
these two often bring out the best,
of each.
a house needs a centre. 
a kitchen table, round
which to gather, for hours.
share sips & bits
of this & that.
live on tops
of mountains. 
raise bees. grow kombucha. 
hand-made clothes.
hand-made music. 
& dance!
sometimes, it’s easy. 
same late-night cookie cravings, 
same lingering mornings,
over conversation & oatmeal.
or one likes to photograph. the other
better suited in front of a camera.
this is what happens.
bodies converge, with little music-
makers slung
over shoulders.
(here we caught them,
taking a break)
sandin graveyard. filled
by miners without families,
families who couldn’t
afford to bring their dead miner home. 
& japanese-canadians interned,
& then dead, before they went home. because
it was not a home. & those that lie here,
still —
she came back 
for a visit
& a coffee.
we had a birthday 
loop, round two lakes
pausing in the ghost town, the sun-
set, a hotspring’s cave, & dinner
(the only three in the diner). a toast
to fine birthdays.
a morning, just before the scattr’ing.
served with my best medicine. early light,
coffee&tea & waffles give a shimmer
to a day. a day when we were all — here.
doing what we do best. us.