It was just last night
some years ago that she
was long and cool.

It was like, she kept herself safe
from church and school and
other like institutions.

Cause, like she said, Hey man, like
everyone’s like making money. And like
who needs home etc. anyway? And like
all things aside, I like, gotta get by.
Don’t I?

Now it don’t take much but it does take a
lot in a red light dream parade.
Cause like, some whacked out dude like,
picked her up, and her
initials are printed where she used
to walk and no one’s like, seen her


Ahasiw, Hastings street looking west from Main, nighttime.

AP: Ahasiw came in the next day at noon, so hungover he was grey and shaking. “I need ten logs for my performance tonight”. This on a weekday in downtown Vancouver. The night before he’d asked for a Métis fiddler.

I sent him off in my truck with a gallery volunteer driving. My assistant technician, Kenna Fair, turned to me with a look of grave concern. “Is he gonna be able to perform tonight?” “Don’t worry about him.” I replied.

SU: That guy always, always rose to the occasion. I have never seen the like before or since. Let’s take…a talk in Ottawa at some conference, realising he had no notes, no idea of the agenda, no direction and we are both so hungover I am seeing double. But he gets on the podium and sets the agenda, the direction and who the fuck needs notes when you have the room in your hands, breathless?

Please leave your comments here...kinanâskomitin (thanks!)