August 2013

author profile26 Aug 2013 08:00 am

bio (1)

 1) Are you primarily a poet, or do you write other things?

I am, primarily, a writer. I write fiction and poetry though my first professional sale was in poetry so I have been writing that longer if I disregard the beginnings of a novel I wrote in grade 10. I write mostly speculative fiction but also have published mainstream, erotica and articles as well. I have far more poems than stories written but word wise, the fiction wins.
2) Tell us about your other writing projects. What are you working on now?
I’m working on a first draft of a novel, medieval otherworld fantasy with three races; several short stories, which are actually SF though I write more dark fantasy, and a collection of poems called A Compendium of Witches. These will be about witches, with a Canadian twist but it’s going slow.
3) Who are your favorite authors? In particular, do you have a favorite who is under appreciated that we should check out?
Old time is Theodore Sturgeon and Dylan Thomas, and current faves are Neal Stephenson, Sandra Kasturi for poetry, and the Careys for their book The Steel Seraglio. I adored that book. It’s so lush and full of stories within stories. It’s like the Canterbury Tales, Shaharazad, Arabian Nights and several cautionary tales wrapped up in silk and jewels and sand.
4) What are you reading now?
I’m reading several collections by Canadian authors that I highly recommend. I just finished Over the Darkened Landscape by Derryl Murphy, whose stories are really sticking with me, and Helen Marshall’s Hair Side, Flesh Side is receiving high praise and is right up my alley; stories about skin in one way or the other.
5) Do you do any other creative work (music, visual arts, etc)?
I do Bellydance, make beaded jewellery in necklaces and watchesa and from time to time I create something in the sculptural realm, such as fairy wings, a garden slug out of glass studio castoffs or a six-foot pomegranate.
6) What is the latest big discovery in your life? (art, music, lifestyle, whatever?) I love travelling but sometimes we become complacent. However, I’ve discovered that while I like to be around people in a bar, or at a dance, I don’t like to be around them in the swarms of big cities. I’m going to Europe this fall and hoping to park myself for a few days near Nantes, birthplace of Jules Verne and creative center of the Machines de L’ile where 30-foot divers and mechanical elephants have been seen to roam. This type of elaborate street theatre warms my heart. It takes a bit to save up for European travel but I’ve decided that ever two years I won’t jaunt around N. America but see more of the world and its fantastic, elaborate history.

I did discover that after taking photos in the cemeteries of Cuba, Ireland and Montreal that there is a rich sense of evolution, history and reverence to be found there and I think this fall when I travel to Europe I’ll try to see what tales I can learn there as well.

7) Basic old biographical details? (family, work, why do all writers seem to have two cats, etc?)
I actually have only one cat though I used to have two. I think it’s because writers are selfish with our time and dogs need to be walked, taking us away from our computers. Whereas cats can sit in our laps or be draped across our wrists while we’re writing. But I know writers with dogs so there are always exceptions. My two BFAs are in Creative Writing and Design (Photography). I do freelance copyediting and actually enjoy it. I live in Vancouver, BC and enjoy the weather except when the gills start to grow.

I’ve published more than a hundred poems and short fiction and have other pieces coming out this year in Chilling Tales 2, Irony of Survival, Bull Spec, Cemetery Dance,, Artifacts & Relics and Heroic Fantasy Quarterly. Check out Bibliotheca Fantastica and Demonologia Biblica (two different books about books) for current fiction out this year.


poem19 Aug 2013 08:00 am



While my blood flowed warm and red
covered by flesh as white as snow
your heart ran slow and cold
sheathed by a molten iron will

It was always about the heart
yours chiseled of frosted glass
long before you gazed in that magic mirror
recognized your spiteful stare could freeze the world

Nothing could shatter your diamond hard need
puncture your hate, no slivers of glass or needles
to stitch a heart on your sleeve or back into a body
as devoid of empathy as of love

You sent another to do your dirty work
hoping to spread the wintering of your domain
but it’s hard to stopper compassion’s wellspring
and a kind word pierces a heart truer than arrows

So like you to tear out hearts with words that kill
with hopes to eat my laughter, devour my youth
make me as dead as your feelings had become
and bury any guilt with proclamations of your right

You found beauty in others distracting, covetous
unless you were the center of adoration
eventually they enclosed me in crystal
a chrysalis to preserve me from the poison you spewed

In my death your realm was still ice and isolation
but nature has a way of balancing hate and love
those who mourned planted me in their hearts
so that I could return anew, inevitable as the seasons

If you had only broken through the glass coffin of your fear
used the shards to carve a way back into the world
let the pain flow until your blood was clear, your breath light
then together we could have grown old, laughing

Hearts beating in tandem with the rhythm of the seasons
as we marveled at the melting of the snow white realm


poem12 Aug 2013 08:00 am

Psyche’s Remorse

Each night as cool and black as weighted silk
he came to me, enveloped me, loved me
Each night he kissed me, whispered
then faded with the stars

I awoke to daylight in a fever
devoured the sight of every man
sure that one would claim me
waiting silently for my dream

The marketplace gossips laughed
A hidden husband who came in dreams?
How could I be a proper woman?
How could he support a family?

I never felt his gaze
Yet at night his heat consumed me
I began to burn in darkness
a brand never doused

Blinded by my need
I revealed my lover to the light
Winged, warm, too pure for mortal form
Eros awoke, scolded me, flew from my embrace

I searched for him, followed him,
suffered feats to be with him
and in the end the love I kindled
burned me through and through

I could not stay with people
after Eros took my heart
I only wanted love
not to rival a god’s splendor

Was it knowing godhood
he had tried to hide from me
or the knowledge of my lost humanity
that I have learned to mourn?


poem05 Aug 2013 08:00 am

Athena’s Choice

From within—fearless Metis opened her thighs
in blood she birthed me
then fed me milk and words
Metis told me he had swallowed us
hoping to keep our wisdom
she was content to wait and plan
knew I would do as I choose

And so I chose
he could not swallow destiny
and I battled with words
speared his every thought
knowing full well my power
in my father

He conceived an idea, words, a gender
tried to swallow the counsel of women
tried to digest me before I opposed
I did not spring from his head
More my anger boiled too long
that brought my release

I countered until I won my way
out he called for Hephaestus
bright ingenious Hephaestus
who swung his mighty axe
split the head of Zeus in two

Out of that duality
I strode forth