The way the dark-to-light green concentric curves of artichokes, halved, look on the wooden cutting board. The way the round radishes, sliced thin, fan out on top of the slices of blood oranges in the white serving dish. The way baking powder biscuits can be a love letter if you cut them out with a … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Ada Limon
Once, a long time ago, I went to a jumprope exhibition in the gym of a middle school. There were teams of tandem jumpers, rope dancers, and synchronized twirling. The students had practiced for many weeks prior to the exhibition. This was back in the days of big VHS camcorders, and I had one on … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by David Kirby
Looking for a good book? Here are my favorites from the past month. What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky, by Lesley Nneka Arimah. Holy crud, but this woman can write! I don’t often read short story collections, mostly because a short story sucks me in so completely and then poof, it’s … Continue reading Books of the Month, February 2018
A child I didn’t have has been with me throughout my adult life. He has grown up without me in a shadow world that exists within this world: invisible but close by. In dreams he stands in the doorway of a room I’m writing in, his feet on the doorsill, never stepping into the room … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Ross Gay
Once, when I was bushwhacking through the woods and came to a clearing, I saw an owl in the tree closest to me. It was perched on a limb about ten feet off the ground, and the tree was about ten feet from me, and I had never been that close to an owl. The … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Robert Hedin
The first time I read the poem below a scene from the past flashed up in my mind: a winter day which my then-preschool children spent playing Ewok, which translated into them marching around the house/forest with yardsticks as hiking sticks. My son was Master Logray and my daughter was Teebo, names and roles taken … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Sinead Morrissey
We used to call them the funnies, and I have a memory of sitting on my dad’s big lap while he folded the newspaper in half, then quarters, so he could read them to me. This would have been on a Sunday, because I remember the strips as being full-color. I still read the daily … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Stephan Pastis
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
We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world. -jack gilbert
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
