44% of my chapbook for free!

the green muse has released it’s winter 06 issue, featuring the poetry of HAP published poet C.S. Fuqua. the issue also features four poems from my chapbook, "splattered earth" (are the other 5 poems in the chapbook worth the dollar-fifty? only one way to find out…).

check out the whole issue here, and my contribution here.


three poems

red fez has released it’s winter 06 issue, which includes three of my poems:

a note to all the poets of the world
she worries about me, you see

if interested, i encourage you to read the whole issue, as red fez is always one of the best reads out there.


remembrance day

here in ghana i find that old wars are recalled with the same strange mix of nostalgia, pride and horror as they are in canada, except these wars weren’t fought an ocean away, but instead right here. being so near the battlegrounds, and their repercussions, puts a new spin on yet another canadian holiday (no one gave me candy on halloween).

on top of that i just finished reading Slaughterhouse 5 (as part of my “read all those books you really should have read ages ago” campaign), which contains, for me, one of the most powerful anti-war messages i’ve ever encountered. in other words, i’m feeling the holiday more than most years.

along those lines, here are two poems by Carl Sandburg, written during WWI:

Murmurings in a Field Hospital


hey ted's head. you look cold. can i get you a toque?

my poem "hey ted's head. you look cold. can i get you a toque?" has been published in feathertale.

read it here.


on women and CFCs

she tells me she believes
every weather front contains
its own story

and each morning
dewy grass lingers
as a reminder that
an abbreviated history of the earth
has played out while we slept.

she smiles and i quiver inside,
flooded with images of
the countless icebergs that will soon
lumber up on arctic beaches
and collapse into thunder,
never to be reconstituted.

the sand beneath them
drowned, turned to seabed.
the rocks on the shore now
battered by the rising waves,
relentlessly bullied into sand.

each grain a new birth,
its own trembling world.

from the november 2006 issue of High Altitude Poetry

read more of my poems from HAP here.