My poems podcast, Words by Winter, can be found here. The world is too big if you make it so. This sentence has been running through my head lately. Every time I feel besieged by the world’s problems, which is most of the time, it comes back to me. This morning the dog and I got up … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Ellen Bass
Last week my water filter leaked into the storage bin where my youngest’s childhood mementoes are kept. I brought it upstairs and spread her things out to dry. Onesies, footie pajamas, overalls with ripped-out knees. Her high school graduation cap. Notebooks filled with book reports and drawings and journal entries. Cards she’d written to me, … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Ellen Bass
Son to his little sister, who was raging about a boy in her first-grade class: But maybe he acts like that because he’s sad. You never know what his home life is like. Older daughter, age six, to me during a discussion of what death was, after I had told her that if I died … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Ellen Bass
Pleasantville, New Jersey, 1955 – Ellen Bass I’d never seen a rainbow or picked a tomato off the vine. Never walked in an orchard or a forest. The only tree I knew grew in the square of dirt hacked out of the asphalt, the mulberry my father was killing slowly, pounding copper nails into its … Continue reading Andes Mint #21: Poem of the Week, by Ellen Bass
GATE C 22 – Ellen Bass At gate C 22 in the Portland airport a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed a woman arriving from Orange County. They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking, the couple stood there, … Continue reading Poem of the Week, by Ellen Bass
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
