studio

I dissected a computer keyboard and discovered its beating heart is a flimsy sheet of plastic. My made-in-Canada Smith Corona typewriter, as old as I am, still working, stands solidly by.

When a record album was in fact an album full of records, when records were shellac, when my mother was a teenager, when she was “Jody” – she made this old-fashioned playlist. What does it say about my mother’s preferences and choices and how her circumstances informed them? My latest long-playing writing project is to

Lay aside the guilt. Sometimes words are not up to the work of expressing what is. Sometimes what is comes from that pre-language place. That pre-language place is where we came from and where we will go when we die. Let’s not think of it as a failing.

where do the poems go when life barrels instead of meandering towards Bang Whimper I sigh uninspired and indifferent (indifference – that ancient armour) hiding from life behind nothing at all where are the poems? in the ice edged puddles in the ice splintered trees

…I would choose just this light, colour palette, composition, and texture (all while humming Norah Jones’ Painter Song.) Instead my camera made what my eye found in Cobourg Harbour, the silent rivalry between the March sun and the long winter’s ice.

I have edited and corrected (and edited and corrected) the text for the memoir of my father and his ranch and now need to reweave the two narratives more tightly to make it “more enticing” for the reader. The only way I know how to start this process is visually…like rearranging the chairs in a

…or the entrails. Or palms, tarot, dreams, horoscopes, ouija, bumps on the head, even statistics. We need to know and so we predict, though we mostly fail to take lessons from such predictions. And so we seek to prophesy again. This is my haruspex, oracle, prophet, sibyl, augur, seer. What will she read and what

A Conversation with https://merkatart.substack.com/ Merkat: …I sit typing, milking the last drops of serotonin from my brain in order to stay afloat.  Are you in the same boat? Let’s ward off scurvy together. A lime for your January thoughts. Mia:  I used to embrace my inner brown bear and crave winter hibernation. That bear is