What was the first music you ever bought with your own money? The Edgar Winter Group album that featured the songs “Frankenstein” and “Free Ride.” I was in the eighth grade. Any reaction from your parents? My father came into the room and discovered the album cover with Edgar Winter in full glam rock mode, … Continue reading First music: Edgar Winters Group.
How old were you? Ten, probably. What did you buy? Johnny Cash, at Folsom Prison. I can still see the cover and the record as it was when I bought it, still shiny and black and unscratched. My allowance at the time was maybe $3/week, out of which I was supposed to buy school lunch. … Continue reading First music ever bought with own money?
Brown Refrigerator – Rick Barot You don’t have to understand it but you will carry it anyway. A couple whose baby died, when they had to move to another state, took the baby from the years-long ground and brought her with them. They did this again a second time, their memory always tied to its … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Rick Barot
Single Thread – Helen Wickes When I was a weaver, I chose a red silk thread to get me to the heart of my creation and then back out, across the loom, to whatever life was waiting. And when you found the little red pathway, buried between warp and woof, you were sure you’d found … Continue reading Poem of the week, by Helen Wickes
Wedding – Emily Rechnitz I stumbled in high heels across the wood chips of the Christmas-tree farm to take my place with the other guests under coarse pine boughs. In a coned damsel cap the bride glimmered through the woods, materialized at the altar microphone. In the barbecue line his mother whispered on my neck, … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Emily Rechnitz
I was in the laundry room, folding mounds of towels and sheets and listening to one of my favorite doctor-writers, Atul Gawande. Mr. Gawande was talking about how he recently spent time comparing operating room procedures to kitchen procedures at The Cheesecake Factory. He was impressed with the fact that within weeks, all the items … Continue reading And on the 30th day, she looked forward to Indian food with a friend.
Well, well, well. I had such a great thing planned for today’s never done before challenge. I was thinking about this great thing all day long, preparing to put in a couple of hours writing about it tonight. Then I went down into my basement, which, just to give you a visual, is a really … Continue reading Day Twenty-Nine: "Just pretend you stepped on a chicken wing," said my friend. "Little crunchy bones, you know?"
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
