Category: photography
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Another 7×7 poem February Sunset Heater blasting hottest air seat warmer radiating— knuckles whiten on the wheel as Neptune’s tail lashes hard; it is three degrees below— my heart catches fire watching this sunset through driving snow.
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Working one day, alone in my tower—er, office—I listened to Loreena McKennett singing “The Lady of Shallot” (lyrics from Tennyson’s poem) and it struck me how the good Lady and I have more than a few things in common. We even share a first name— she’s based on the Arthurian legend of Elaine. Modern technology…
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I recently heard Pauletta Hansel, a wonderful Cincinnati poet, read some of her work. A series she read introduced me to a form I’d never heard of before: the 7 x 7, also known as a “49-er” by some. The form is simple, 7 syllables per line, 7 lines. I really loved how her 7x7s…
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Wednesday night is writing circle night for me. I write with some amazing, inspiring women, and look forward to it all week. In tonight’s fastwrite, we were invited to take a line from the poem, “Hunger” by Gunilla Norris, and write for 12 minutes to see where the line might lead us. The title is…
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To the pond Yes, I’m boiling over I’m stirring the pot, I walk, listening for the howler monkeys their silence echoes across the silver sky A red-tailed hawk and a flock of sparrows whisper in my muffled ears: to the pond, to the pond, to the pond words skipping like stones across water like a…
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Alive like a stream When I was Lainey I played with iron shavings— scattered them all across the Formica countertop Mama handed me the big magnet, lucky horseshoe-shaped. I gasped as the slivers danced, alive like a stream, drawn to me I felt magical God-like, even. Delighted, oh so powerful, but then: I developed a…
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Influence Early stargazers coined the word influence to describe how ethereal fluid ‘into us flowed’ changing destiny: starlight, steering us think of starlight flowing, think of it with me: a glimmering river of it flowing, washing into black velvet voids filling the endless emptiness changing darkness to insight— pixie dust of healing invisible oftentimes but—…
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This morning while reading and reflecting, I came across a favorite Lucille Clifton poem: i am running into a new year i am running into a new year and the old years blow back like a wind that i catch in my hair like strong fingers like all my old promises and it will be…
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I lie on my belly on the asphalt sidewalk. It feels cold, even through my down jacket, but the pond has frozen overnight into such beautiful swirls and filigrees of ice, and the morning sun is skimming the frosty patterns in…
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Singing to the sky On Christmas, I give Annalee flowers, and she tells me how her friend’s husband shot himself, how she found his body— she tells me how it looked, but I won’t say At the nursing home, Jo Marie tells me her son doesn’t visit anymore her eyes shine like marbles when she…
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