Ken Cathers as a  B.A. from the University of Victoria and a M.A. from York University in Toronto.  He has been published in numerous periodicals, anthologies as well as seven  books of poetry,  most recently Letters From the Old Country with Ekstasis Press.

He lives on Vancouver Island with his family in a small colony of trees.

kelly

your face
a vowel shaped
silence

reflection
drowning in dream

I hold you
under, want nothing
but this inside
screaming
	to stop

hands clenched
in complete focus

the pulse, some
part that watches

unmoved. cold
and far away

when

for Devon

when you were born
I held your tiny
shrivelled feet
	with wonder

look. I said, he’s
been walking
in the desert

toes curled under,
eyes clenched
against the light

fearless

having already travelled
such a long way
to be here

kahuna

for dick dale

carve and turn, cutback
across the white face
of silence

how the line appears
before you, curls under,
is the endless torque

the ocean’s  pull
felt at the center
the breath of
what is lived into

that moment before
the wave breaks, the world
falls off balance
 
the light flawless
some perfect grace
approached

and you know
falling into it

you know