…We’ll float,
you said. Afterward
we’ll float between two worlds—
five bronze beetles
stacked like spoons in one
peony blossom, drugged by lust:
if I came back as a bird
I’d remember that—
until everyone we love
is safe is what you said.
Even in my postpartum-addled state, I recognize I’m singing my baby daughter a love song. . . . Yet the words have never seemed more true.
It was the night before Xmas, and somewhere around here
I sat alone with a drink, you know, holiday cheer.
While most people think about food this time of year, I contemplate the end of the world.
The winter holidays are on their way. Since leaving my hometown in Texas thirty years ago, I have spent almost every Thanksgiving and Christmas since driving or flying hundreds of miles to […]
I’ve been reorganizing my poetry bookshelves, as one does during a pandemic, slowly sorting through books I’ve collected over the past thirty years. Most I sort by last name, slotting Barbara Ras […]
I’m proud and happy to announce my flash nonfiction essay, “His Apple Pie,” about a border collie and a bad guy, appeared today in Brevity: A Journal of Concise Literary Nonfiction. For […]
I’m having a creative crisis along with the stress of the global pandemic outside my door and the uncertainty of life when we emerge. I’m trying to take the ‘extra’ time I […]
The author of the essay “Whatever Happened to ________?” published anonymously, because she had to. Stalked by an ex-husband who freaked out due to her greater success as a writer, she has […]
I’ve recently been the recipient of a handful of chain email plans, all with one idea: share quotes from poems that have been meaningful, inspiring, or comforting to you. The details of […]
