Once, doing laundry, I reached into the bottom of the washer to pull out a wet brown sock. But it wasn’t a sock. It was a bat, velvety soft, small, and lifeless. Bats have an affinity for me, at least judging by how many have found their way into the house, and I’ve never killed … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Hannah Marshall
Flags in general make me uneasy, especially now. Tromping around the streets of this little town, I see regular American flags, thin blue line flags, Q flags, skull flags, and other flags I can’t identify and don’t want to. If I had to fly a flag I think I’d fly a potsticker flag. Hard to … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Garous Abdolmalekian
A few days ago a friend was running in the canyons when he found a hiker lying on the trail, unmoving and unresponsive. He called 911 and gave him CPR until the medics arrived and took over, but the hiker died there, on a warm, sunny day filled with the scent of coastal sage, the … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Jay Hopler
After our dog Petey died it felt like a betrayal to go for a walk without him, without the constant pauses so he could sniff, pee, investigate. I was finally used to hiking without a leash in my hand when we adopted our pup Paco. Now it feels strange when someone else takes him out … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Robert Okaji
Even though I conjured them up, the people in my books are real and alive in my mind and heart. They wonder about the meaning of life the same way I do, they look at the sun gleaming on the ice crusted snow and think how beautiful, the way I do, they look back on … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Charles Ghigna
a journal of growth, change & experimentation
Reflections from an Older Perspective
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.
Alison McGhee 