It’s almost sultry here in Oregon as I type these words, sitting outside listening to the temple bells make their music to my ears. I’m alone this week with J. down in Corvallis. And I’m thinking more about Cynthia, and how much I’ve missed her …
Hammering It Home: Poetry’s Nuts and Bolts
Mary Oliver is a beloved contemporary poet. Her work is read at weddings and funerals and by Garrison Keillor on his radio show, “The Writer’s Alamanac.” Even my yoga teacher in Corvallis, Oregon, often began our class with inspirational lines from Oliver’s work…
Sunset, Sunrise
Last night, I dreamed of being on the ferry from Mukilteo to Whidbey Island in Washington. It was crowded with people, what I imagine it might feel like to travel in steerage, and the weight of all the passengers …
Into the Maze, Blindfolded
Every one of us has one of those books—assigned in a class, passed along from a friend, found in the bottom of the box you bought for a buck at the annual Friends of the Library book sale in Ithaca, New York…
There’s No Place Like Not-Home
Trigger is not one of my favorite nouns mostly thanks to its too frequent use under sad and horrific circumstances in this gun-toting, trigger-happy country of ours. But one of my favorite books about writing is a little gem by Richard Hugo called The Triggering Town…
Art, Sun, Gardening
Alberta Art Hop Day. The Al Forno Feruzza bus had its completed paint job on display (this is the in-progress version) as we wandered by, up and down the closed thirty or so blocks of Alberta Street, our neighborhood, our neck of the Portland woods….
City Days, City Scenes
I really feel (finally) like I live in a city this past week. This in spite of just coming in from digging out spreading day …
Aim for the Chopping Block
I have been reading Annie Dillard’s book, The Writing Life, again this week. It was published way back in the dark ages of 1989. That was right around when I re-opened the writing Pandora’s box in my own life and put pen back to paper, fingers to QWERTY keyboard again. Not long after, I headed to graduate school part-time, feeling for the first time in forever that I’d been reunited with my creative tribe. Sing hosannas—wait, not so fast….
Desperately Seeking…Duende?
Being a person too often inclined to the melancholy and darker side of life, I was struck by this comment by Barbara LaMorticella on Dojo Poetry Editor Kirsten Rian’s recent blog post about happiness: “In flamenco music, in Spanish poetry, there is a hard to define quality called ‘duende,’ which is a grief so deep it…
Be Bold, Be Free, Be Truthful
Present economic conditions have been serving up a familiar and unsettling feeling of déjà vu of late. Some days, it feels as if we are back in the late 1930s only with 24/7 media, social networking, iPhones, and twittering thrown in just to make us wonder if it’s really “Back to the Future” instead…
