If I threw a rock down the gullet of this deep, lonely blog, would it hit at the bottom? Would it splash into some river run-off of old melancholy or all has that all dried up? Lodge itself into the thick damp remnants of fear. Or would that flung rock just hit the dry, cracked … More Echo echo echo echo….
Letters of My Body Dear Feet. Please stop for a moment – please stop jiggling worriedly or pushing shyly beneath the blanket on the couch. I’ve written a poem for you in Morse code. There, dotted along your tops where the sun tenders that thin skin. I’ve dotted the tops of your big toes – … More Letters of My Body
On Thursday evenings, I attend a class called “Intuitive Writing.” A small group of us are led by amazingly gifted author and teacher (and just plain happy, kind, and soulful human being), Katherine Jenkins. Her book “Lessons from the Monk I Married” has been translated into multiple languages and she writes a blog with the … More The Art of “I Am”
Do you read The Paris Review Interviews? Beautiful bits of writerly wisdom and insight. A recent link in my Twitter feed pointed me to the 1986 interview of W.S. Merwin, one of the first poets I read in my second stint of university, a time when I was feeling so very connected to the art of words. Of the many ways to understand and define … More W.S. Merwin On Poetry: “The completeness of life.”
said Alice Munro. Then she won the Nobel Prize for Literature. What a beautiful accomplishment for a woman who described herself this way: “I’m not really an intellectual,” […] “I was an okay housewife but I wasn’t that great.” Be inspired to do two things today: 1) Visit your library and take home a book … More “I think maybe I was successful in doing this because I didn’t have any other talents,”
“The water should taste like the ocean,” Heapfuls of rough salt poured from my grandmother’s palm. She had lived for eighty years by then. She didn’t measure anymore. A gas flame licked blue then orange beneath her own mother’s copper cooking pot. “It can’t be alone.” Twists of gemilli fell into the boil. “What can’t be alone?” I asked, watching the … More Salt
She found out today… that he could very well be right about microbes in office buildings. (via NPR) that he was wrong about Justin Beiber’s monkey. (via Twitter) that he enjoys the “Titillating Wing Combo” from the Hooter’s lunch menu. (via Facebook check-in) that he preferred blonds, usually, but how nice to see him try something new. (via his mother) that … More Third Party
Forgiveness. There is no poem for it. It is a strong and beautiful goodbye. Self. There is no book for it. It is a lifetime of goodbyes. Destiny. There is no plan for it. It is this. Say a beautiful hello. Inspired by Joshua Prager’s story: Was I what had been done to me? Were all of … More What Makes Us?
“Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.” ~The Symposium, Plato When metal and cowardice explodedon Boylstonfalse men who thought to be gods failed.In this place that built us all,one by one,we fell to the ground, to hard ends, cutting deepestinto … More One Boston
Some birds sit alone. I noticed that, in mornings etched in chill. On a wire, the one holds fast to a space that is far from the group, singular silhouette against a waking sky. But that outline is as solid as the mass of them and seems stronger, still than all together, that scatter with … More Some Birds Sit Alone