A poem in praise of Mrs. Pinder
O how you rose in your chair, pinned me with an aggrieved glare, in front of our grade-two class. Your august flesh pendulous with seriousness, my inner-ducklin...
Category: Culture
Headlines for August 4, 2014
Finally, there is no moral tide, that rises on either side. Blood is blood and what is blood in war, but an end to all means to an end. Shed enough of it, and t...
Mercy is an old word
This morning at Credo, a homeless person obviously suffering the mental and physical strafing of street life, stole in and immediately and determinedly began to...
The stupendous oddness of being
I wake up, it’s light, there’s a slight wind slipping through the trees, and above these, is that purity of blue that arrives with a clear morning. ...