Over twenty-five years ago I had the audacity to start a literary journal. I say audacity because I was a know-nothing undergraduate student who had taken a few writing classes and suddenly thought I was qualified enough to read, judge, and publish other people’s work. The thing is, all I needed to do was hang…
A Bucket Full of Knots
Say you promise to be at your desk in the evenings, from seven to nine. It waits, it watches. If you are reliably there, it begins to show itself – soon it begins to arrive when you do. But if you are only there sometimes and are frequently late or inattentive, it will appear fleetingly,…
Lost and Found
I am embarrassingly late to the podcast craze. Enough so that I think it may have peaked and started to fizzle a few years ago. I hadn’t ever listened to one until a few months ago when I started listening to Hidden Brain. I don’t know, I think I felt somewhat above them – a…
This Is America
6:03 am I’m frustrated. Yesterday morning I wrote the bulk of a post that I posted a few minutes ago. It’s about choice and compromise and “we over me.” It wasn’t very clear or good, and is quite inconsequential – much of what I write is. I had planned to finish the post after work….
Choice, Autonomy, the Self, and Others
I had a dream that I kept waking from and coming back to – or at least I felt like I kept coming back to. I was involved with someone. I couldn’t picture her, so it wasn’t anyone specific. She wanted to have cosmetic surgery (not corrective, per se) and I was stuck between wanting…
The Great, Big World Calls
Tonight felt larger than most. I drove out to a sunset bar – ok, maybe not exactly that poetic, but it was outside and the weather was divine. I sat above a small stretch of lawn lined with tables and Adirondack chairs and a brook with silvering rapids. I read some poetry and wrote. I…
Speak to Me Wild and Precious
Attention without feeling is only a report. -Mary Oliver I wanted more and I didn’t know how to get it. -Joy Harjo I found another new-to-me podcast: On Being. It too, is about how to live a purposeful life. Among the episodes I’ve listened to have been interviews with the poets Mary Oliver, Joy Harjo,…
Birdsong in the Morning
A wall of gray clouds advances like a column of soldiers on parade marching down the wide boulevard of sky. It’s been threatening to rain the way summer days threaten rain. The dog was good on our morning walk. He ignored other dogs, and even walked closely by a rabbit and didn’t try to chase….
Other Exits
Last night I had a dream that I was staying at an airbnb – somewhere warm, near a beach, a place with very white walls. I bought and started to install a ceiling fan, but after drilling a sizable hole in the slightly slanted ceiling above the bed, and partially installing the fan, I realized…
Food for Thought
Yesterday, a particularly miserable day for weather, I popped in the earbuds and listened to a podcast about attention and focus as I walked for an hour on the treadmill. Many of the ideas the guest on the podcast had shared were concepts I was familiar with. There is no such thing as multi-tasking. Our…
Slow Walk to the Edge of Admission
Friday Morning
During one of my earlier quiet phases – one of those one- or two-week unintentional hiatuses from writing when I wasn’t sure what the point was or just felt tired and confused
Purpose Like a Ham Sandwich
There’s no way I can get this right. Quite literally, no way. So instead, I get up and water the plants. That’s how I’m beginning a poem of the same title. It won’t go very far – so few of them do. Already, I’ve walked away from the poem like a half-eaten sandwich. From a…