June the Horse – Jim Harrison Sleep is water. I’m an old man surging upriver on the back of my dream horse that I haven’t seen since I was ten. We’re night riders through cities, forests, fields. I saw Stephanie standing on the steps of Pandora’s Box on Sheridan Square in 1957. She’d never spoken … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Jim Harrison
You were listening to voicemails on speaker phone in the kitchen the other day, standing by the sink as your youthful companions and their friends sat around the table eating grapes. Most of the voicemails were short and to the point: Meet me then, see you there, can’t wait, talk to you soon. One of … Continue reading Portrait of a Friend, Vol. V
Ocean Ghazal He came spiraling back up the stairs, all four flights, two at a time Dark coat flying, dark eyes searching, something more to tell her, that last time. At night by the ocean, salt spray and laughter and a dive in dark water. Kisses, soft, then silence and her body, alive with longing. … Continue reading Ghazal*
If thou must love me, let it be for nought – Elizabeth Barrett Browning (from Sonnets for the Portuguese) If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love’s sake only. Do not say ‘I love her for her smile—her look—her way Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought That falls in … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
PICTURE BOOK WRITING WORKSHOPS Any picture book writers feeling isolated out there? I’m offering back to back one-day picture book manuscript workshops next month. We’ll talk about the fascinating/fiendish (take your pick) specific challenges of writing these fabulous little books, including the essential elements of picture book writing: characters, story arc, language, beginnings and endings, … Continue reading Two picture book writing workshops offered next month!
One of your youthful companions wants to be Amish. The first time she saw a horse-drawn buggy and a bonnet-clad little girl dangling her feet off the seat, she turned to you and grabbed your hand. “Look!” she said. “Those people are Amish,” you said. “They ride in buggies instead of cars.” She must have … Continue reading a pretty a day (and every fades) is here and away –
Longing for the Dance What were you faithful to, back then, alone long nights when those in other rooms slept on? You’d look out at the stars, those nights you spun a world of other places, all undone from your small self, so still in the small bed that you were faithful to, back then, … Continue reading Longing for the Dance