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I’m a writer, artist and designer who thinks way too much, and tries to see the beauty in the world.

Tag: #iphone photos

  • Sharp, necessary things

    Louise Erdrich says in her poem, “Thistles”: “under loss and under hard words, under steamrollers under your heart, it doesn’t matter. They can live forever.” I think there are some feelings that are like thistles, that’s why Erdrich’s poem and the thistles along the sidewalk speak to me like an old friend as I ponder…

  • NOLA dreams

    Last year evaporated. No. Exploded, boiled over, filled to the brim and poured over the edges leaving December behind. The beauty and the un-beautiful combine combust time escapes like steam from a kettle screaming with possibilities I want to find more magic. I am digging.

  • 2017, a mini-novel

    (I’m writing a mini-novel with flash-length chapters over on Medium.com. Following is the first chapter of my tale of a dystopian future. Check out the rest if you like—it’s a work-in-progress, which I’m hoping to finish before year end. It is a work of fiction. I hope. Access the chapters by clicking here.) View at Medium.com…

  • November Ginkgo

    Walking this weekend brought to mind a poem I remembered about Ginkgos. Their “yellow fluttering fans of light” never fail to inspire me. I attempt and fail to capture them in yellow/fossil/sucked-in-breath poems. They are the last of their division of tree (Ginkgophyta), all others being long extinct. Ginkgo leaves are found in fossils dating…

  • The door is that way, Judge Ruehlman

    Dear Judge Ruehlman, I’m a registered voter and I’m not going to mince words here. I’m going to be straight with you. It’s time for you to go home, Judge. You’re drunk— drunk with judicial power, that is. Maybe it’s a side effect of how our justice system works, or doesn’t work? Maybe some counseling…

  • Dear Melania

    Dear Melania, Do you mind if I call you M? I don’t want to waste too many keystrokes. Never fear. I’m not going to be mean, or unfair. I’m just going to tell a story. Someday, some far-off wonderful day, you will be remembered like a princess in a fairy tale. (Yes, I think you…

  • For Terence

    For Terence

    For Terence It’s like some evil game nightmare edition of Simon says Why do so many people who look like me comb over the footage, looking for a misstep? The questions begin, inevitable hateful cloaked in willful blindness the cloak victim-blaming always wears: “Yeah but–was he fully complying? Why didn’t he comply exactly?” The wrong…

  • On sitting down with fear

    “Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living in better conditions.” –Hafiz Fear is ever-present, a room in every house. I think it must be acknowledged to be lived with. Denying fear’s existence, its slithery form under the bed, under the pillow, in your head, in your darkest…

  • A poem for my neighbor’s hibiscus

    A poem for my neighbor’s hibicus Furled for the night, see? They’re rolled up tight, like tissue-paper cigars in the moonlight sleeping in the morning they will spin open I’ll be walking past I’ll be sucked in, again will spin with them, six-and-a-half again ballerina fantasy fairy dresses for princesses named Hibiscus, Rosemallow, Swampmallow. The…

  • Small miracles

    I believe in hope in change in light in dark times in turning off the news in speaking the truth in spreading beauty into the world in the power of small miracles in starting where you find yourself in breathing in the moments To anyone who struggles (which includes, I think, everyone?)—keep trying, keep moving,…