Every ladder in New York infects my street. Their hoses slop, fat white snakes on dusted concrete and spraying water shimmers back the Morse of rooftop lights. On the stairs I meet a fireman, and his...

First it was a knee.
Then wayward arm with sweaty fingers.
And hours later wanting sprawl you push; urge
Me off our bed – my body an unwanted barrel
over a waterfall’s edge.

Rubber boots edge virgin snow, and your slender bodies take on the sprinter’s form. All rush after snowplows pass, to break their line and challenge nervous discipline with flying powder and...

Catch the wind, ‘n for all its flappin’ cannot move; its only feature: a pair of metronomic wings Long seconds pass, and we are riveted; one by the wind – the other by a bit of...

Allow me a sound-bite response to Barrie McKenna’s recent piece in the Globe and Mail titled “Ottawa needs to put innovation high on its resolutions list”: Canada has embarrassingly...