This was my view

Lobster boats coming into the harbour

Lobster boats coming into the harbour

This was the view during two weeks in December I spent on holiday in Dipper Harbour, a small fishing community on the Bay of Fundy east of Saint John, New Brunswick. I’d watch the lobster boats come in on early afternoons while editing, and a few hours later darkness would catch the sky in its big, embracing net. More than once my hosts would boil up lobster over a propane-fueled stove on the patio for an early dinner. More than once we drove along the highway to visit a vast, interlocking web of family– uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews. We were offered home-brewed wine and a seat by the wood-burning stove, and I saw firsthand how news travels amongst the clan, from person to person, so everyone knows everyone else’s business.

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More than I’ll Admit

I don’t admit to myself that I’m busy when each day is a list of tasks. In the waning days of March, our landlady announced our house was being sold, the house I’ve lived in since moving to Toronto five years ago. We’ve since packed up, rented a van, signed a new lease, and settled into a cavernous character house overlooking Riverdale Park, and every day sitting down to my desk in our new share office has never felt onerous.

Still, trying to edit and write while in the midst of moving remains one of the most difficult states of being I’ve encountered. Interruptions occur constantly– house viewings on both ends, additional expenses, reference books and files are taped off in boxes. 

Here’s what I managed to get done: I have work in the current issue of CV2, you can here “Mourning Doves” here. I also have two poems forthcoming in Ricepaper Magazine, my first appearance in that publication. A chapbook is in the works for fall release with Bardia Sinaee’s Odourless Press, which for now I’m calling “Occasional Emergencies.” I’m tentatively sending bits of my full-length poetry manuscript to publishers, like throwing pebbles into the well. I can’t even see the ripples they make. I just have to believe there’s water down there. 

My next update may be in Europe! I fly next week into London, where I’ll spend a week seeing all the free galleries, free galleries and Queen’s gardens as I can. Then I take a cross-eyed itinerary of trains down to Lisbon to attend the Disquiet Literary Program. I’ve arranged hostel and homestays, but not much else. I have a rover’s attitude to travel– what I’ll get to, I’ll get to. I’ve found I’m much happier seeing half a gallery a day and wandering into a neighbouring park after asking an attendant where to get a good coffee, than checking another item off a list. It’s this way that a city can get acquainted with you.