In response to the closure of 54 libraries

Libraries are worlds where ideas are born. Today the Newfoundland Labrador government, in an attempt to save money, announced the upcoming closure of over HALF of this provinces libraries. Fifty-four (54!) libraries will close.

The library is one of the very few FREE educational options left for parents who want to get their kids involved in reading, crafts and social events. Hell, even movies can be signed out of libraries and the internet there is free too! The price you pay? Signing your name on a sheet to show that you attended. To show the powers that be that, yeah, we’re using this place.

Library cards? Free. Even if you are late returning a book, your late fees are so minimal it would take months before you accumulated enough fees that you’d miss one good cup of coffee for it.

Along with the 15% tax on books, our libraries closing, some schools closing, MUN losing millions from its budget and god knows what will happen with CNA.. What kind of an outlook are we creating for children? The young families that want to come here?

This is not an atmosphere for learning. For growth.

Could we not have charged monthly/yearly fees for library cards? Asked a minimal fee for internet usage? Increased the late fee charges? Changed the hours of operation?

I stand by my library and the librarians that work there and are every bit as courteous and loved as our next door neighbours. But I keep forgetting that some of us are so self-involved we don’t try to get to know our neighbours.

Libraries matter. Learning, matters. NO to budget 2016.

the bright spot

you are so well read
no sonnet is as well put together as you
are, the reason for my patience
the reason I can take this
you are so well read
well versed;
I see you breaking down these barriers
carrying on, carrying on
you’re the bright spot that shines in the right spot
you are so well read
and I love to read.


the levee 

they build the dam or don’t
we’re damned anyway
our confidence like the spring in May
this back and forth
the rising tides above our heads
how can you rest inside your bed
tell me there’s no mercury
tell me there’s nothing to see
a history of chances
giving away what isn’t ours
we criticize the scarred earth
wonder why, there’s not enough ice
there’s no choice
our words float out with the tide
riding on the waves of all we seem to have forgotten
all we’ve never learned from
drifting toward the levee that we’re still paying for..


upon waking

i watched as 11:11 walked by on the clock 

hesitating every few seconds with a wish on the tip of my tongue

holding back, holding on

11:12 became a new story, i couldn’t wish that moment back because wishes can’t be contained in a well

they’re out in the open, floating, waiting for a well-meaning hand to grab them

i’m just here writing with black ink stained hands, hoping someone can read between the lines

waking up the poet.


the self, centered.

to be the Sea;
the self
brown dirt – round earth
i’m here and i’m breathing
and i wish it were enough
it bothers me
how painfully capable you are of breaking me.