Love, by Norwegian writer Hanne Ørstavik and translated by Martin Aitken, is a strange little book. At 125 pages it should have been a very quick read but it ended up taking me a week. I’m not sure exactly why … Continue reading WiTM: Love
Now that Napowrimo is over, I’m settling back into my routine of morning online reading. This is my time to look for wonder-full flash and poetry and get lost in other places and other lives. There are many good writers … Continue reading Women of Flash
I needed to call you but I’d forgotten your number, the one I always thought was burned into my memory — for hours I anxiously thumbed through white and yellow pages, forgetting then remembering your name. Between the pages I … Continue reading 803 Monroe
“When you’re in the dark, you have to try to remember that it’s a dance – dark, light, dark, light, dim. Or when you’re in the sun but the clouds come, of course you instantly think, Oh, God, now it’s … Continue reading For Tara
“I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish.” ~~~Anne Lamott, Small Victories When I read that sentence, the image was … Continue reading Musing on Forgiveness
The last three books of poetry I’ve read couldn’t be more different. Two of them, “Milk and Honey” by Rupi Kaur and “Good Bones” by Maggie Smith, came to my attention on Twitter. Did you know there’s a vibrant poetry community on Twitter? Actually, there’s a vibrant writing community there. I’ve found some fantastic books, poetry, flash fiction, short stories, nonfiction, etc., there and, these days, it’s the only reason I’m still hanging in. The only reason. Anyway, I digress. The third book, “From Every Moment a Second” by Robert Okaji, came to my attention from Robert himself. I read … Continue reading 3 Books, 3 Poets
You sat at the back of the room like a glacier, non-moving, non-blinking, arms crossed over your chest. I chattered on, ignoring you but sneaking a side-eye now and then. Thousands of days have passed, this thing moved way past estrangement into forever-gone land long ago. But you reappeared, hovering like fog over shifting ground until you finally walked over, handed me a letter,disappeared again. Fog. The first sentence read, I was sober for 9 years, 8 months. Now I’m not. I don’t know what to do with this, this unsettling psychic information. That’s the thing about dreams, where does … Continue reading 9 Years 8 Months
Riding black ribbons we settled on the butterfly’s wings, a taste of renewal on our tongues, in a landscape swept clean as our minty mingled breath and bodies as determined as a second chance. *** Prompt via NaPoWriMo.net: Write a poem that explores your sense of taste. ( I kind of expanded the definition of taste with this one.) Continue reading NaPoWriMo 27/30: Reunion
I only missed you once, when the kettle boiled and I burned my finger in the steam, you weren’t there to get an ice cube or pour my cup of tea. The empty space is crowded. It’s a lie I tell myself, not in the dead of night, but in the bright white glare of every day since you left. Your empty shoes sit by the back door waiting for the snugness of your toes. I’ve come to realize you walk a trail now I might never find. The empty space is crowded. When I walk the back garden where … Continue reading NaPoWriMo 11/30: Fingers & Toes
Stir the Roux When we’ve finished, I’ll turn off the quiet with the music of pot and spoon, metal on metal as flesh on flesh. Stir the roux. Whole peppers, onions, celery stalks I’ll chop into bits of Holy Trinity, the colors of contentment. Stir the Roux. You will be in that space between awareness and drift, the salt of your sweat settling into your skin. Stir the roux. As the gumbo simmers, we’ll watch the earth absorb the sun and the stars will mirror our eyes. Stir the roux. *** Prompt via NaPoWriMo.net: Write a poem using repetition. I … Continue reading NaPoWriMo 8/30: Stir the Roux
