The University of British Columbia Okanagan has been placed under an evacuation order. In a notice posted to social media on Friday, the university said everyone must leave campus immediately. If anyone is on campus and needs access to transportation, they are asked to make their way to H lot. Everyone is asked to leave immediately and in a calm manner.
Tagging: @politicsofcanada
happy world poetry day!
reblog to give a plushie to the person you reblogged this from
FRANK MAHOVLICH TRANSCENDS TORONTO
"Owena's Ode", @darkforestroads // "Viva Mahovlich!", Maclean's, 1961 // "It Should Have Been You", The Waterboys // Toronto Daily Star, Nov. 3rd 1967
the last time you remember really running was on the slashed-up field of your elementary school sweat and sun and your hair in your eyes as you skinned your knees in the dirt
the blood pulsing down your legs like your heartbeat, because it was your heartbeat that afternoon on the field—
you are the most yourself when you are in motion even now
even when the sun has set by the time you key closed your sticky lock and your blood has stayed where it's meant to be but nothing is where it's meant to be until you find yourself running like crazy for that other patch of grass on the muddy ground
thank you for the tag @a-la-rascasse and @iamidentical!!
Rules: 🎶 Put 5 songs you’re listening to at the moment, then tag 5-10 followers to do the same 🎶
i tag @biveganpoetbat @quietpoetrycorner @dark-winter-snow and whoever else would like to do it!
that flock of hearts down broadway— i see them go by through the windows on the downtown bus today. they're spinning on string from trees just low enough to catch and read, and i wait for the readers
when i can. at the stoplight i see a young woman pause her stockings ripped at the thigh and hair fallen from a bun so she is human. but through that window she has no flaws when she reads the fluttering heart and smiles just long enough for me to catch her smile.
then in traffic slow at five minutes a mile the little boy is hoisted on his father's shoulders and his mouth is stained blue so he is human. he reads like each word is new even as his father's back must be aching. but time
is here for all of us today and i catch his smile, too, blue and uneven in unpractised happiness
Happy Valentine's daaaaay dear!!!!!!!!!! 💘 Here's a vintage Valentine card for yooouuu 💞!!
Hope you will have/you're having a great day!!!
aw happy valentine's day!!! i'm sick so the day could be better, but this made it lovely, thank you! love you too, laura ❤️💙🧡
on the crest of a wave
on the sling of a song
the train
makes the sound of the blues
rumble and footfall
and tumbling over
together, we all
sing it
A petition to the government of Canada is calling on them to open up seeking asylum to transgender and non-binary people from places with eliminationist laws regardless of where they are from. It specifically cites the UK and US.
Petition to the House of Commons, whereas:
Canada has prided itself on being an inclusive, tolerant, and welcoming society for everyone regardless of gender identity or gender expression.
We, the undersigned, residents of Canada, call upon the House of Commons to extend to transgender and nonbinary people the right to claim asylum in Canada by reason of eliminationist laws in their home countries, whatever country that may be.
Sign the petition here
I looove your new pfp!!!!!!!!
aw thank you! my last profile picture served me well for five years, but it felt like time for a change 🧡
Highway 90
An owl lands on the side of the road. Turns its head to look at me going fast, window open to the night on the desert. Clean air, and the great stars. I’m trying to decide if this is what I want.
- Linda Gregg
what i have to write tonight is full of this:
worries. over lost smiles and glitter eyeshadow
freckles. on shoulders and chests and backs of hands
hugging. hard and soft and light and crushing
cold. walking in the burying december darkness and watching the streetlights glaze her in something pure and distant
because what i have is her. i have her distant and i have her near. i have her on my phone at 2 am and there next to me on the bus ride home. i watch
her face when she doesn't smile and when she does and regardless
the worries and the joys and the freckles and the hands that hold me are written already.
🎶 and a happy new year (from peter) 🎶
every december i hold my breath and days pass over me like skates on ice ice too thick to see through.
last week, although i don't remember when i tilted my face into the snow and watched. i watched the black sky and the snow that fell like the grit of broken glass.
i watched something appear from nothing. i watched the skaters from below.
i tell myself when i look up to see the webs of snow, of cracks december is not the end.
you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone!
every december i hold my breath and days pass over me like skates on ice ice too thick to see through.
last week, although i don't remember when i tilted my face into the snow and watched. i watched the black sky and the snow that fell like the grit of broken glass.
i watched something appear from nothing. i watched the skaters from below.
i tell myself when i look up to see the webs of snow, of cracks december is not the end.
inconvenience is having a freshly ground pencil in your hand, forgetting your notebook in your jacket pocket.
the jacket is downstairs, even. the jacket with the pocket with the notebook.
the pencil, once the irritation rises, even turns out to be sharper than you thought. you prick your thumb
by accident, twirling your shortened pencil. too careless,
you are thinking of each step you have to take to reach the jacket (with the pocket).
each step, a poem. a poem, what could be! it all flees
when you find the sharp, ready point of that pencil
embedded in the pad of your finger. a little bit of blood, unfortunately,
is not a poem.
damn, all that sharpness
gone to waste.
Everyone wants to watch the vivid hurtful red of the sun
until their eyes feel like they are shriveling in their sockets (and popping out their brains)
and if they have to die, they want it to be while driving fast, late at night (stars blurry), stereo
cranked up so all they can hear is hey, hey, hey, Bobby McGee, before they drive
straight on into the trees. Scramble out their brains.
Maybe someone will hear the music in the morning. Follow it like a thread tugging their hair, freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose
maybe for that someone to take a little walk into the trees, just to see what all the freedom’s about,
trip on the black tar tyre that crumpled off the back
catch their eyes on the crisp green-apple sun that illuminates everybody’s splendid crooked body
because everybody’s body is splendid and crooked, even splashed with fern-green and red like
that, even with the splashed-out brains on the dashboard.
All happy like that. All that evidence of life out for someone to see.
i remember that time you told me you said "love is touching souls" surely you touched mine 'cause part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
