Lynn Tait | VISITATIONS

VISITATIONS Three o’clock, but our clock strikes one; to us, it’s our son Steve roaming the house. I slip outside to read on the porch – he probably glides out too, all gangbusters, but in a ghostly fashion. He talks to me outdoors more than in: sudden visits, message by snake, lizard, dragonfly, or cardinal. […]

Lynn Tait | NO CERTIFICATE CAN EXPLAIN ME

  NO CERTIFICATE CAN EXPLAIN ME I arrived on a Monday, from one canal to a cold, smooth grey world, light bending to a particulate blue. In time, I became a wound, too many colours for one woman. Painted into a corner, not passing through anything without your approval, all chromatic wheels at my disposal […]