No Idea

I am lost in my head today and my heart hurts. I've had to close my window to the out-siders and I have told them why. If I don't I risk losing my apartment and I will not allow myself to become homeless but then I'm accused of lying. I care I care too much but I can't afford to lose my apartment I just can't going out in the cold it makes my knee go haywire and I can barely walk. Yeah E I know I should have told you that but I still want to do the week-end we planned I will just have to wear my brace The tears won't stop but at least they are silent, when I first was ordered to stop I burst into loud noisy tears as soon as I closed my window. The outsiders are so used to being homeless that someone withdrawing support to keep the roof over their head seems to them like I was faking the whole time my window was available to them because now it isn't. I understand them being upset at me I'm upset too. I will not give up my home for them I can't.  With...

 I had the pieces of this short story in my poetry journal today I'd like to share it with you as a single chapter from a possibly larger version. The Bridge of Aszis How very sad, I used to think, that a mind can live its whole life locked inside a skull. On Earth, that thought came to me in crowded trains, in noisy cafeterias, in classrooms where people’s eyes were dull from too many facts and not enough wonder. I would look at all those faces and feel it — the sense that we were all carrying entire galaxies of thought and feeling, and most of it would never be known. Many mysteries does our mind hide. There is so much to learn. When I was ten, the headaches started — bright white bursts behind my eyes whenever someone nearby felt something intense. I could tell when my teacher was about to snap at the class, when the stranger across the bus aisle was quietly grieving, when my mother was worrying about money and trying not to show it. I didn’t hear their thoughts, not exactly. I...

 This is a poetic version of the prologue from my book, you will find a strange new word in it mycorrhizal which is what the layer just under the surface that connects all the trees is called, I've also heard it called the Wide Wood Web. It is how they communicate and also helps them grow by bringing water and minerals to the trees as they need them. I planned this story to bring awareness of our need to care for our trees and other plants cause if they die we die. An educational version is also in the works. Read it and tell me what you think. All seven of you please. I want to make sure it can speak well. 🌲 When the Forest First Sang Before the first dawn brushed the sky with breath of gold the world lay still, a whisper waiting to be told From soil’s deep heart a shimmer stirred and rose a pulse of life where secret knowing flows The Guardian awoke in threads unseen a song of root and rain between Each droplet hummed a tender tone binding stone and seed as one From dar...

Turning 64 hits differently. It isn’t old and it isn’t young — it’s more like standing in a doorway with one hand on the past and one hand feeling around for the light switch of whatever comes next. And honestly the year between 64 and 65 comes with way more practical nonsense than anyone tells you about. It’s not just emotions. It’s paperwork and timelines and figuring out how to land on your feet when the government decides you’re now “officially” a senior. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is this: as soon as you turn 64, start your applications . If you are on Ontario Works or ODSP like I was, they cut off your benefits the moment you hit 65. You’ll get one final month after your birthday and then that’s it — no money coming in unless all your applications are already in process. And trust me, government drones move slower than winter molasses, so the sooner the better. That means filling out forms for Old Age Security (OAS) , Canada Pension Plan (CPP) and the Gua...

 The last couple of weeks have been a blur of creativity and caffeine as I bounce between Woulf’s Quest and the poetry anthology that keeps stealing my attention. On the Quest side we’ve been deep in world-building again tightening the canon polishing appendices and slowly shaping Act III so it breathes the way Air should. I swear every time I think we’re done another little detail taps my shoulder and says fix me next. And then there’s the poetry book which has taken on a life of its own. Some days it feels like excavation brushing dust off old feelings until a clear line appears. Other days it’s more like wrestling fog but in a good way. A handful of poems finally clicked into place including Heavy in the Soul and I’m starting to see how the whole collection might hold together. Heavy in the Soul I keep hearing that time waits for no one and I guess that includes me because nothing slows down not even when I’m falling behind If I want my life to mean something I have to p...

 I am so tired of people. I have had more run in's with people against what I do. It is beginning to wear on me.  Its almost virulent the way it has been increasing, that attitude that I am a bad person because I try to help the homeless & drug addicts. That I am what is that word ah yes enabling them as if If I stopped giving out water and food the issue would disappear. I suppose it would for a few days maybe a week before they would be back causing damage like they did all last winter.  Without reason to protect this building the helpful ones will disappear which would leave room for other undesirables, the ones that hate everyone and everything. The ones who will cause damage in and around the building because they have no reason not to.  "Providing sustenance is a compassionate act that allows individuals to focus on other challenges and is a prerequisite for getting back on their feet"  How food and water are helpful, not enabling  Meets basic ...