She stumbles off, slick, into the moonlight,
licking the strands of time as they come in lurching,
sweeping pulse-waves matching the click of
heels on the wet floors of fate.
A lightening slick shudder of fluttering,
systematic disbelief,
boring into a box,
set high on a shelf of self doubt and discourse,
creep up behind the crows and feel around a bit.
“Great soil here, Boss,”
cry factions of the wise,
wilting under the weary gaze,
somewhat better than a hole in the head.
Secure enough, I’d assume.
Posted in Uncategorized
Read more from the gazette
The funding is lost, but the story goes on
Writers’ Federation of Nova Scotia hosts 5th Booktoberfest
Q&A with a member of the Gin and Jazz trio
Damien Moynihan talks on the renaissance of jazz
“The quality is already suffering:” Dal makes all faculties and units cut 6.3% of spending
Dal says cuts necessary to counteract increased wages from new union deals
Could there be affordable housing hidden in Halifax? This group thinks so
New initiative aims to map unused buildings to become housing
Phoebe Bridgers wants you to be in the moment
The singer’s anti-phone policy changed the concert experience
Top recruit ready to make his mark for the Tigers
Ritzand brings skills to Dalhousie in his rookie season






