of your suffering,
of your spirit deflating,
Incalculable skies —
I knew I hadn’t been listening.
Terry Gibson 1993.
The poems from this year were written when I attended UBC’s Creative Writing Department. While I was doing what I loved, my oldest brother’s sudden death–within one and a half years of my Dad–sent me spiralling into a deep depression.
Given that, I’d love to hear from people on something. Do you see images in this? Anything? I’m trying to tap into my poetic self but am struggling. It helps to know that I love free verse.