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COVID-19: Music and poetry make good company


Maria in Avila, Spain, holding a napkin that says "Thank you for visiting" (in Spanish).
Maria in Avila, Spain, main centre at a café.

Thank you for visiting this site! Please share your thoughts and smiles. A portion of all sales during the COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic will be donated to local food banks and student and senior relief efforts.


On that positive note, I am happy to celebrate with you that my research project "Hispano Canadian Performance and Installation Poetry: Dialogando con el Mundo" awarded funding by the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Professional Studies of York University has hired a 4th year Spanish Program student for work during the Summer as my research assistant. Results of our project will be published online and in various publications starting in September 2020! See more about the project here: https://laps.yorku.ca/dare/hispano-canadian-performance-and-installation-poetry-dialogando-con-el-mundo/


In this photo above, taken in Avila, Spain in the summer of 2016, and in the poem below, I remember the many beautiful moments during my various trips in that Hispanic peninsular country, and am thinking of my many friends there. Especially during this pandemic, I pray for Spain's complete recovery on all fronts: health, social and economic--in perfect divine timing. (Psalm 103) Much love to you and yours!



Sun Offering


mostly clear, -7 C attachments dissipate

along pebbly remains finally left behind. now the time is ripe

now the verb is



coming up golden in the breath of creamy rose

I watch as the a swirl of hot steam from your cup fills the air and melts

curled up in your hand

breath resting on the rim of the opening waiting for your mouth

like a god of small things

repeating in all that moves between your mouth and mine


little squares into red and white dancing hands held tight like roots like strings of lyre and brocaded verse

gusset for your shirt, white pockets full of marbles, shaving cream on the counter and mirror of some mornings


strings on windy slopes into

the hue of shiny wooden floors held in sunlight's cosset scarves and knitted windy shores

under the same blanket of blue you found when the ship came into port

memories like pomegranates and acacias.