I’ve never put much stock in a “New Year.” Changing a calendar from one year to the next is no…
Timing and Truth: Hearing the Voices That Matter
Sometimes, it just isn’t the right time. During my thesis defense, committee members said, “Get it out there. Move on.”…
Daily Existential Angst Diary (I’ll let y’all do the acronym)
**TRIGGER WARNING** UNALIVE ATTEMPT DISCUSSED IN BRIEF. In October 2019, I attempted, feebly, to unalive* myself by trying to swim…
Capturing Eruptions: Examining Catharsis Again
My poetry was recently described by a friend as “[capturing] the moment feelings erupt.” That striking (and much appreciated) description…
Writing in a Mobile Age: A Dinosaur Learns a New Trick
I am fifty-seven. I grew up in a time of pencils, ballpoints, fountain pens, and typewriters. I have, in the…
The Thing: Compartments, Poetry, and Brain Soup
My ex always said he could compartmentalize his thoughts. This allowed him to set aside external stresses and go about…
Lost Art
These things cloud my head (with my permission) like a perpetual flu. If I were an addict, I could blame drugs or booze, but my addictions are the 3 x 5 screen in my hand and the constant reexamination of pain and rage. Better to binge on pixels and past hurts than to leave the chasm in my brain agape because I simply can’t properly fill it.
“In the beginning was the Word” and we took it very seriously.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John1:1, KJV)) In…
Porpoises and Purposes
A pod of porpoises often comes close to shore near our new home. It seems, if you’ll forgive the anthropomorphism, that they are making fun of the fishermen on shore.
A Talking Dog and Choppy Seas
How Saturdays would happen if the Big Blind Dog had language: I awaken and get out of bed. My husband…