My poems podcast, Words by Winter, can be found here. I’m no dancer but I love to dance anyway. So many memories of dancing. A ballet studio on the second floor of a frame house: First position. Second position. Plie. Arabesque. Releve. The Alibi: a bar in Vermont, my best friend and I waiting in the entryway … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Gregory Orr
My poems podcast, Words by Winter, can be found here. Four years ago my family and I flew to DC to protest cruelty, bigotry, and oppression. My memories of that day, the people I met, the signs I saw, the peaceful and profound determination I witnessed, have stayed with me through the years and the marches since. … Continue reading Poem of the Week (excerpt), by Amanda Gorman
My new poems podcast, Words by Winter, can be found here. When someone in my family almost but doesn’t triumph at something, one of us might say But you didn’t, a phrase that goes back long ago to our friend Kareem, who almost but didn’t score an incredible soccer goal, and his mother who, after the fourth … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Yalie Kamara
My poems podcast, Words by Winter, can be found here. Yesterday I listened to a news commentator tell me that in a few weeks things will have died down and we’d be “back to normal.” Really? Normal used to mean the legal enslavement of Black people. Normal, in my grandmother’s day, meant she couldn’t vote. Normal, when … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Shilpa Kamat
My new poems podcast, Words by Winter, can be found here. As a kid I used to wake up at dawn and walk down the road to a small concrete ledge over a watering hole. There were never any cars, and I used to sit on the ledge and watch the sun come up over the valley. … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Elizabeth Coatsworth
Goodies from my mailbox and camera
Telling all sides of the parenting story
Waking Up to Your Dreams
On James Baldwin and Diverse Literature
Putting those recalcitrant toddler cancer cells to bed...
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
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
Thoughts on the world around me
the literary asylum
