Maybe it’s the Jazz playing or the sun shining or the crisp fall air, but today I feel like I’ve been making real progress as a writer/poet…. At the beginning of the month I submitted some poems to a few literary journals. Some are currently under review, others haven’t even gotten to that stage yet….
Category: Life
Wanting to Be Missed (Part Two), Except Not Really
I love you for shattering.Someone has to. -Dean Young Six new books of poetry arrived yesterday. This morning, with a steady rain tickling the leaves outside, I sat by an open window and started in on Bender: New & Selected Poems by Dean Young. A few weeks ago Young passed away. I had never read…
What I See Isn’t Very Clear
Night lifts. The trees and roof-lines are shrouded in fog. The world feels far through this cotton glass. The lattice pattern on the black, faux wrought iron table, shines glazed in dew. Traffic hums but only when I listen. A single chirp counts the slow beat of morning – maybe it’s a chickadee… The…
Part Three?
I didn’t sleep well. This is nothing new. I woke up at 2-ish and again at 4. I had to force myself back to sleep at 4. I then had a dream about an ex. We had reconnected and were trying again, but had already fallen into the same pattern / trap that was problematic…
Morning Jetsam (Part Two)
The coffee maker is a heavy breather. It huffs, it percolates. Its black plastic lid hat bubbles and taps before it lets out a final sigh. The dog rests his heavy head on the top of my foot. He’s bored – waiting to be fed. His breath is warm. He sighs too. I messed up…
Morning Jetsam
“Two waffles and a cup of coffee. that’s what I need to face the day. If I can arm myself with a decent poem or something clever or moving, all the better….” That’s what the narrator in my head was saying as I buttered my waffles and pulled the syrup from the cabinet. I hear…
Leaning In To What’s Always Been
In first grade I wrote a book. I think it was about a brown dog. In second grade I wrote another book. I don’t know what it was about. Both books were maybe 8, 12, or 20 pages in length with one or two sentences per page. They were illustrated by yours truly. The covers…
Empty Doorways in the Afternoon
Well, let’s argue this out, Mr Blank. You, who represent Society, have the right to pay me four hundred francs a month. That’s my market value, for I am an inefficient member of Society, slow in the uptake, uncertain, slightly damaged in the fray, there’s no denying it. So you have the right to pay…
Half of a Saturday
“It is joy to be hidden, and disaster not to be found.” I read that on someone’s twitter feed – I think their therapist said it to them. I’m starting this post a little after 11 on a Saturday night. Themes and subjects escape me. I have draft posts on student debt relief, what it’s…
Something to Think About
With the lights out, the cell phone turned upside-down on the night stand, and my eyes not yet closed, I felt this strange yearning for guidance… it was somewhere between wanting to pray (something I don’t do) and a quiet call into the void. I picked up the phone and typed: Dear god…. In writing…
There’s a Twitter in the Atmosphere
The students are back. Everything is more crowded. I bought a new piece of original art, and I’m temporarily filled with moments of Sunday determination – the elation and motivation of which soon will pass. None of those things are related, it’s just part of the weather report, an indication of my current atmospheres…. oh,…
Final Days: A Few Steps Closer to Home
Songs and smells can sometimes yank you back and sometimes subtly glide and guide you through the thin fog of memory to other places and times… distant shores of past lives. For my father, every time he hears “Hey Nineteen” by Steely Dan, he mentions Fort Devens and his time in the Army. I suspect…