Thunder calls me from the dishes

Thunder calls me from the dishes                last night’s arguments dissolving in bubbles to the door. Open it: the world comes alive. Silver sky, wet earth, the great pause as the heat breaks. The leaves fidget, the dog fidgets, the baby fidgets in sleep. Then a ripple across the sky. I close my eyes and…

Sea gong

You’re wrong, of course. A wave is something, tumbling us against the rocks until we are light and silver and sculpted as wood. Breathe. And watch the air take flight.     (My respectful response to Lesley Wheeler, whose poem “The Sea Does Not Exist” appeared in The Malahat Review 190 (Spring 20150) p. 10,…

Bagpipes

Eyes and ears wide open, bums on hard wood, bodies twitching.  Silver fish and the words washing like water. The rattle of medals. The mic listing in the waxy hand. The years unwound. Sisters grown into women. Not fallen, but dead. CLICK TO LISTEN TO THE RECORDING

The Way West is the Way East

http://www.curiaudio.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/Kidd_Monica_The-Way-West-is-the-East.mp3   This piece is a documentary I produced for The Herd Doc Challenge, the brainchild of Alberta audiophiles Megan Clark and Sarah Hoyles (theherddocs.tumblr.com). They laid out three rules: to make a three-minute audio work that relates to the theme of trails, mentions a cardinal direction, and uses at least one archival sound or…

Spring Thaw

Box the crates of rejection letters, and stash them in the drip line. Ball up the sticky notes and stuff them in your cheeks. Shred the divorce papers, the receipts from houses ago. Stop at the top of the stairs by her meaty fist, years since you circled it with your fingers; years, as the…