Month: January 2014


I understand sacrifice. I understand compassion. The line “be true to yourself” haunts me every day. I feel tormented by the absence of people in my life. It is very easy for people to say, “Go out and make friends.” It is not easy, today, to just go out and make a friend when everyone…

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When it all comes out sticks and stones and broken bones and you’re about to give up and drive yourself home there’s the flicker the glimmer trying to make you remember that not every day is like today and you’ll wake up and it’ll be okay and you can’t give up at a little bad…

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Picture this.

Picture this. You’re walking down a freshly groomed trail in winter, it’s a crystal-clear calm night, just below freezing. Your breath dissipates in the air. It smells like Christmas and it reminds you of exactly that. It reminds you of when you were a kid, full of awe and excitement about the morning you got…

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No one knows the girl in the green coat by the window. She’s a writer, and she’s listening for tones and temperatures. She’s looking for subtle clues, the kid in the back of the class drawing on her desk – paying attention without intervention. No one knows the girl in the green coat by the…

Read more Harmonics

Night Driving.

My absolute favorite thing to do. Just some good music, a cup of apple cider, and the open road. Here’s some pics from tonight. Love, M. SOUNDTRACK: Night Driving – Thrice

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late english rose

Her words were soft and pink Like the petals of a late english rose She sees herself in the backdrop of every 80s teen movie Her hair flows orange against the fading sun, and she looks at me like I have all the answers. The yellow warblers on her dress match the quirks of her…

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My Northern Light

I’m very excited to say that for the past few weeks my work has been shown on a much larger scale – GE Canada has sponsored #mynorthernlight, a tumblr blog that aims to spark conversation between northern and southern residents of Canada. I’ve been paired with Toronto blogger Rannie Turingan. We both compared our lives through…

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The Ocean’s Soul

The mist lingered on top of the water for 15 minutes longer today. He took another sip of coffee and rocked slowly in his chair on the front deck of the cottage they once coined their poets nest. He thinks back to a time when they would comb the shoreline every Friday for debris released…

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The dust settles quickly beneath the wings of the crow, dancing proudly on the cold-as-concrete ground. He did the best he could. He watched ceremoniously at the fields below, burning by the hand of another stupid human. The flights he took. A silhouetted figure passes by quietly, swiftly. He doesn’t move. Brazen. “What won’t you…

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I let go a breath of hot air on your fall-scaped window and wrote my name with my index finger. Now, when it gets colder and frost graces the panes, you’ll see that I’m still here. And I hope, I can only hope, that it will make you smile. M.

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Breaking Bread.

The sunlight tangoed across the dusty dashboard. Her fingers tapped to the tune of “Crazy,” by Patsy Cline. “No one sings it quite like you Patsy,” she said aloud to no one in particular. Her window was down, the dirty western air clambered in to greet her skin. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showin’…

Read more Breaking Bread.