–and for good reason. Below are actual excerpts from the fifth-grade diary of a writer who, for the purposes of this blog, shall remain nameless. No animals were harmed in the transcription of these entries, and, despite the fact that the writer really, really wanted to revise many of them, not a single word has … Continue reading Some Writers Don't Keep Journals–
Spring and Fall: to a Young Child – Gerard Manley Hopkins Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Squirrel – Ece Temelkuran (translated from the Turkish by Deniz Perin) Truthfully, I ruminated when I came down from the tree. Had sorrow made me say all these things? Had someone been with me, they would say at once that I was ‘deeply wounded.’ I would like to show them the squirrel that flickers in … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Ece Temelkuran
The Word – Tony Hoagland Down near the bottom of the crossed-out list of things you have to do today, between “green thread” and “broccoli” you find that you have penciled “sunlight.” Resting on the page, the word is as beautiful, it touches you as if you had a friend and sunlight were a present … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Tony Hoagland
Meeting at an Airport – Taha Muhammad Ali You asked me once, on our way back from the midmorning trip to the spring: “What do you hate, and who do you love?” And I answered, from behind the eyelashes of my surprise, my blood rushing like the shadow cast by a cloud of starlings: “I … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Taha Muhammad Ali
She was tall, especially when you were a child. She was a big woman of girth and substance, with heavy legs of which she was ashamed all her long life. In her closet hung a neat row of size 22 flowered polyester dresses. Below them, a row of size 12 lace-up shoes. It took her … Continue reading The story behind the picture book
Girls Overheard While Assembling a Puzzle – Mary Szybist Are you sure this blue is the same as the blue over there? This wall’s like the bottom of a pool, its color I mean. I need a darker two-piece this summer, the kind with elastic at the waist so it actually fits. I can’t find … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Mary Szybist
your own PDK for writing
a collection of beautiful words.....
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
“My mother is a poem I’ll never be able to write, though everything I write is a poem to my mother.” ~ Sharon Doubiago
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
