Freedom To Read

-Manitoba Writers Guild-

24 HOUR FREEDOM TO READ MARATHON

MILLENIUM LIBRARY

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I will joining many voices tomorrow, as I read aloud from one writer's work deemed unacceptable by a school, a community, a province or a country. One silenced voice will be freed. But in my heart, it will be those writers presently imprisonned or ill-treated for their words for which I will be lending out my voice. Namely:

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• Wang Dejia (pen name: Jing Chu), arrested December 13, 2007, released on January 12, 2007, “pending trial for one year” and under conditions that he not write anything “attacking the leadership of the Party and State,” “inciting subversion of state power,” or any “political commentary.” CHINA
• Hu Jia, arrested on 27 December 2007 on suspicion of ‘inciting subversion of state power’. CHINA
• Writer and activist Amin Ghazaei has been held incommunicado without charge since January 14, 2008. He is reported to be in solitary confinement in Section 209 of Evin Prison, and to have been tortured. IRAN
• 21 writers, journalists and librarians in CUBA.

The list goes on...To read about these and many other writers whose freedom has been unjustly taken from them, and to see how you can help, visit: http://www.pencanada.ca/programs/prison/index.php

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A Pause for Poon...

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in a single solitary breath
words are mistaken for that
which must remain unnamed
(lest they not stay true)

to be worthy

of thy heart’s affections.

,

Marjory

part i:

Marjory didn’t understand why everyone was making such a fuss over her choice of birthday cake. She was certain Peter would love it. But his dad and his dad’s sister were all abuzz about what they called the implications of having a cake decorated with iced pastel butterflies. “Now he’s come out and shared his...lifestyle with us, and well--”

“Marjory, I don’t recall Pete having any attachment to butterflies.”

“I just thought it was...pretty. That’s all. Besides, Michael, the only other cake they had at the Safeway bakery had a big ole’ football sitting on top.”

“Marjory,” Michael replied, “Peter played high-school football, remember? So now we know he’s uh...he’s homo-sex-ual, well it’s no reason to go completely crazy and start buying butterfly cakes, is it?”

Sheila leant against the counter rubbing her forehead while she watched beads of sweat accumulate on her sibling’s face and neck after hearing himself say ‘homosexual’, perhaps for the first time. Poor Michael, he’s trying so hard, she thought to herself.

lay-by

He kept his speed up, to no avail. It was difficult to drive any faster than he already was, with these coastal roads winding the way they did. If I can only make it to the lay-by, he thought, recalling the last time he had taken this route back to London. He had been with Miriam, it was two years ago now. They had stopped on the channel for a better view of the orange sunset on that rare cloudless summer evening. It seemed only yesterday she sat next to him, wafts of her perfume on the green chiffon scarf wrapped about her head, slapping his left cheek now and again in the brackish breeze. Peter had difficulty accepting her death and the unknowns that had brought it about. Now, it seemed someone was trying to end his life. The Ferrari coupe inches away from side-swiping him into the cold water below, Peter swerved onto the lay-by with only seconds to spare, his heart deep in his throat.

dear john,

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thank you for sharing mediocre instant coffee and conversation at a table that reminded me of a childhood that could(?) have been mine.
m.

oh and thank you for the butterflies...

To You:

His smile brightened her day. Being in his presence made all things seem possible somehow. Was it his unquestioning faith in her? Was it her belief that her love was reciprocated, his just as true as hers? She smiled back with a wink of her right eye - despite her ambidextrous ability, her left eye just wasn't with the program... He laughed and walked away. She missed him already. How was it that pain held on to love with a single yet unbreakable thread?
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pretty words & hallmark hearts

n=n=n=n=n=n=

you ask if i've been in love
recently
i hesitate (what will i say?)
that i don't believe anymore
in
in love
that i avoid it whenever possible
because i know that being
in
will quickly fade, leaving
out the Love

= = = = = = = =

Haiku dream

a

cold wet drop shocks

The white lily

in the pond

dries beneath the spring sun

Histoires de la rivière aux rats//Stories From the Rat River

JACK JONES, part iii:

When l’abbé R-- got wind of Jack’s fall, he wasted no time getting to work on his Sunday sermon. He penned lengthy words about Christian duty, of the obligation a congregation has of letting no sheep go astray. And though l’abbé had never spoken to the man outside of the familiar confines of his church, he made it clear that any man Mr. Jones should approach for drink was to turn him away. Mon oncle sat in the third pew on the right, listening and quiet in thought. He didn’t shake the priest’s hand on his way out the front steps that day. Ma tante followed, not feeling particularly sociable herself on that particular Sunday morning.

When Jack Jones found his way to oncle Robert’s farm that following Thursday, asking if mon oncle might have some whiskey to spare, the abbé’s sermon rang loudly and unpleasantly in his ears. Angered by such simplistic words and unable to get himself to close the door on the friend who now stood on his porch, his trip to town that morning quite suddenly and vividly came back to him. Mon oncle recalled a delivery truck backing up to the rectory door, and indeed, he had seen the boxes of bottled wine. They would not be blessed yet...

And so it was that Jack took his first walk to the rectory that night. Although no one can confirm what happened next, the parishioners never again heard mention of Jack in the priest's sermons.

That Christmas, Mr. Jones sat with the children while oncle Robert and tante Anne-Marie attended midnight mass in Saint-Malo, Manitoba.

L'il Folk Tales

Y Y Y

LOVE IS IN THE AIR:

I rise from my desk and walk towards the built-in pencil sharpener on the back wall of the classroom. I can see him from the corner of my eye. He's sooo cute! Why won't he look at me?

I sharpen my pencil until it almost dissapears into the hole and hoping now that no one is looking, I stuff the pencil shavings in the pocket of my dindl skirt. The teacher seems too enwrapped in her words to notice my dissapearance.

I sit back down at my desk. I guess all I can do now, is wait.

The teacher finishes her lesson and hands out a question sheet. I take one and pass the others to the student behind me. That's when I see him.

He looks down at his pencil and stands up. I push the lead of my pencil against the edge of my desk until it snaps off. I want to run to the back of the room so that no one will get between us in line, but I must keep my cool...I cross my fingers and slow down my steps. I so much want him to fall in love with me and I think I've finally found a way. It came to me last night, just as my eyes were closing.

I am standing behind him now, my hand holding tightly to the pencil shavings hidden in my left pocket. His beautiful, blond hair glistens while his hands are busy with sharpening his pencil. Then he turns to walk back to his seat.

Okay. Now...no...NOW! And the love dust flies through the air, landing on his beautiful, blond, glistening hair.

But, well, umm...when he turns around at my expectant eyes and my smiling lips, I see that his face is totally covered with my love dust and he's rubbing his eyes frantically. And though I can't make out his words, I see them coming out of his mouth in a fury. What went wrong, I wonder. Why has my love potion not worked? Maybe I just used too much...

Y

February is I LOVE TO READ! month

...

Literacy is the basis for the well-being of individuals, families, and the whole province. The ability to read, write and perform basic math has an impact well beyond those skills. Low literacy is, on the surface, an invisible handicap. Its effects, however, are not. Investing in literacy makes economic, social and political sense/cents.

...

A few facts on literacy in MB

Number of Manitoba adults aged 20 to 64

with less than grade 9: -----------------------39,200
Number of Manitoba adults aged 20 to 64

with less than a high school diploma: 180,380 (or more than 1 in 4)

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Average annual salary for a Manitoba worker

with a college or trade school certificate: $29,000
Average annual salary for a Manitoba worker

with less than a high school education: ---$19,000

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The estimated annual cost of low literacy to Manitoba society: $375 million

Did You Know
...that by helping unemployed people with less than a Grade 9 education overcome low literacy and graduate high school, we can cut their unemployment rate in half?

Have you considered

...that maybe Stephen Harper's cuts to funding in literacy programs last Spring stirred little debate from those in need because those who are in need have no voice? They need us to say what they can't right now. They are your neighbour, your friend, your cousin. Don't let them remain invisible...give them a voice.

For more answers & contact information, go to Literacy Partners of Manitoba's website: http://www.mb.literacy.ca/start.htm

________________________

is the glass half full or empty i ask her as i fill it

she said it doesn't really matter, pretty soon you're bound to spill it

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..

e. saliers