Blog
Evaluating Your Writing Space
Today, I consider my writing work space. I am struck by the fact that I have no "designated" space. At the beginning of the academic school year (my life is still organized by "academic school years"), I cleared off a desk in the back room, called the "office". As the...
Steep Shoulders
Steep Shoulders You are the moon, the white glow Bouncing off the wet pavement You are red streaks of light shimmering on the road Your heartbeat sets the rhythm Keeps pace with an electric night I can dodge shadows with the receding sun Because you are...
How a Fraction of a Second Counts
In about six months, millions of folk on planet Earth will be tuned into the Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Millions will be engaged in watching this gathering of the world's top-notch athletes who demonstrate incredible skill, strength, and tenacity. One...
Alive and Active
For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. ~Hebrews 4:12 I love this verse! It reminds me of the power of...
Assignment: Reporter
My time as a reporter was as brief as a rookie reporter's first article: it lasted only a summer, somewhere in the middle of my college years. I was actually considering changing my major to journalism, which is what led to the internship. But there was one problem:...
Writer? Who, Me?
I remember when I first identified myself as a writer. Or rather, when someone else identified me as one. I was in 7th grade. My English teacher asked to speak to me after class. I made good grades. Usually never any trouble. The model student. What could this...
Diaspora
Diaspora Close eyes Weaver knits wind tails Dreammaker ignites fire Reach, catch a tail, flipping fast, skim invisible air Grab this one or that— tail of another fantastic— Soar through days, ripple like waves surge through moments twirl through realizations A...
Everything is Beautiful….
Here's a poem I wrote when I was in high school... yep, high school. That was, let's see... a long time ago. My kids are now close to the age when I wrote this. This piece was published in our annual high school literary magazine. My 7th grade English teacher is the...
Andalusian Dream {poem}
Andalusian Dream Closing my eyes to find the cobalt sky reaching down to touch the sea, not knowing whither it ends or begins Searching along the shore near Malaga I hear her shoes tapping like we were back in Seville and buying dresses off the streets...
Some Kinds of Loss
Some Kinds of Loss Checkered, framed, lines in sharp angles Drawn around the faces of those inside. I stare and they change, get older, like Dorian did Yet a small sunny spot stays on her forehead, when she Held up the days with her own two fingers, When she...
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