Greetings, friends, neighbors and farflung fellow citizens of this enormous world, I’m giving away three copies of my just-about-to-be-published picture book, “Making a Friend.” Yes, it’s that pretty blue snowman book right over there. Written by me, illustrated by the wondrous Marc Rosenthal. In order to have your name added to the hat, first click … Continue reading Add your name to the hat!
Liquid (excerpt from) – Albert Goldbarth “All told, the moon’s water—locked away in rocks under the surface—equals “about two and a half times the volume of the great lakes.” —The Week, July 2-9, 2010 What other things, what other conditions, are locked away improbably in rock—in an inhuman hardness? Moses … doesn’t the story … Continue reading Poem of the Week (excerpt), by Albert Goldbarth
Unlike your sisters Oatie and Robert John, you had no nickname growing up. People, including your family, called you Alison. You can remember your father, the bestower of nicknames, studying you one day and then trying out the nickname “Champ.” That lasted for about a day, whereas Oatie and Robert John still answer to their … Continue reading ". . . and I heard my name as if for the first time. . ."
A Poem for Emily – Miller Williams Small fact and fingers and farthest one from me, a hand’s width and two generations away, in this still present I am fifty-three. You are not yet a full day. When I am sixty-three, when you are ten, and you are neither closer nor as far, your arms … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Miller Williams
Autumn Begins in Martin’s Ferry, Ohio – James Wright In the Shreve High football stadium, I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville, And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood, And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel, Dreaming of heroes. All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home. … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by James Wright
From New Hampshire – Rosanna Warren It’s not your mountain but I almost expect to meet you here I think you have taken a long late evening walk Your heavy shoes glisten with dew I hear your footsteps pause on the dirt road and I know you are picking out the dark mass of the … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Rosanna Warren
Objects, Memory and Meaning
If it can't be said in a hundred words, then it can't be said in a thousand.
sewing a handmade wardrobe
drink from the well of your self and begin again. -Charles Bukowski
Your Source For The Good Things Black People Do, Give and Receive All Over The World
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
Thoughts on the world around me
the literary asylum
Bipolar is my superpower
