Powered by
WordPress

  • Fort Street

    May 9th. Sunny. I’m walking past the Winnipeg Police Service headquarters at 11 in the morning when I turn off Graham onto Fort Street and the timing is what it is. Two men coming from the gym, laughing, easy with each other and with the morning. They glance down at the man on the sidewalk…

  • Peel Basin, 09:15

    Under the Bonaventure Expressway. The Five Roses sign at an angle I hadn’t expected from here. REM trains to my right, sliding past without sound from where I’m sitting. Water. I’m always near water these days, and I’m starting to think that’s not incidental. A bus passes overhead and the whole structure hums. Rain making…

  • Eastward

    The ice is gone. I notice this before I’ve settled fully onto the bench, the oat milk moka still warm between my hands, the pines along the boardwalk doing their slow work in the wind. Habitat 67 sits in my peripheral vision the way it always does. The Jacques-Cartier Bridge. The amusement park still closed…

  • Consequence as Weather

    The coffee shop near the Palais des congrès is already full of Liberal Party of Canada convention delegates when I join the line outside. Cop cars are parked down the street. Inside, every table has a staffer. Suits. Baseball caps. #LIB2026 lanyards. Louboutins under a table where someone’s set a Prada bag on the chair…

  • What the Credential Requires

    The process is specific. A recognized bachelor’s or master’s in social work. More than 350 hours of supervised fieldwork. Registration with a provincial regulatory body. Annual renewal. Professional liability insurance. Continuing education requirements that must be documented and submitted on schedules the regulatory bodies determine. In most provinces, certain activities are reserved exclusively for licensed…

  • Salt

    The ice is sweating. Moisture gathering at the surface, at the precise line where the ice meets the water it’s in the process of becoming. I’m watching it from the bench on the pier, the same bench, the same eastward orientation I keep returning to without quite deciding to. Gulls have settled at that line…

  • Fool’s Spring

    The air is doing something it has no business doing in March. I notice it before I’m fully awake to noticing—something in the chest, a small release, the jaw unclenching in a way I didn’t realize it had been clenched. I’m already on the route when it registers. The cold that’s been structural for months,…

  • The Body as First Register

    My body has been the first place where things gather. A pressure sits in my back—a low bracing that has begun to feel structural, the kind of tightness that doesn’t shift with stretching or rest. It moves without ever fully leaving. Some days it settles between my shoulder blades; other days it spreads into my…

  • Time, Held

    Time arrives before anything happens. It shows up early, settles in, rearranges the day around itself. You learn it through how the body prepares. Through the way the chest stays slightly lifted, like it’s waiting for a tap on the shoulder. Through how often the jaw tightens when the phone lights up. Through the reflex…

  • Structures of Warmth and Violence

    The sun is warm on my face at the port, and I don’t trust it.Midwinter light has no business feeling this gentle.The river is frozen hard enough to refuse reflection, to hold its surface without depth.Ice tightens everything into place.And still, the sun presses against my skin, insistent, intimate, as if it has selected me…