I want to write a poem about silence just like almost every other poet ever probably and am of course twisted up immediately in words but here is why I want to write a poem about silence silencers all sorts of silencers metal ones and flesh ones and metal ones that cut flesh with their…
Dear Rebecca, Maybe you already know this: When I was in my late 20s and in graduate school at Stanford, you came to give a talk about the American West. I think it was right before you published River of Shadows, your book on Eadward Muybridge and the technological west. I approached you afterwards. I told…
On Monday evening, which happened to be the evening of my 43rd birthday, my husband came home with the mail and dropped it on the desk as usual. And it was the usual pile of bills and holiday catalogs and appeals for end-of-year donations. And the Princeton Alumni Weekly. For years, when this magazine…
My poem “Horse Dreams” was accepted, and published online this past Friday, by Vine Leaves Literary Journal. This was my first published poem. Last week, I made a not-so-subtle celebratory fuss about it here. Why the hoopla? you might ask. It was a 4-line poem, and thousands of people publish poems. What’s the big deal?…
I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. I am a published poet. See? It’s still true!…
I have a new love. It’s called poetry. I have an old love. It’s called poetry, too. They are finally meeting one another, in the space of my mind. While cleaning out my computer several months ago, I found a rich text file that held just one poem, with no attribution or signature. I honestly…
Yesterday my parents and I accompanied my daughter’s class on a field trip to San Francisco. The school rented a small tourist bus for the trip. As I climbed aboard and took my seat alone by the window (my daughter wanted to sit with her friends in the very, very back, and my parents wanted…
The other day I ran into a friend with whom I worked in Occupy Santa Rosa. Towards the end of my time with the Occupy movement, she (probably unbeknownst to her) became much more than a friend; she became a “Wild Woman” meeting me in the dark woods, offering me another chance to make my…
I read on Facebook a few days ago that Hip Mama is relaunching in print, and since then my finger has been hesitating over the key that would let me subscribe. Then, to top it off, I was invited by Dani Burlison to the North Bay’s Hip Mama/Rad Dad relaunch party. Am I dreaming? I…
It is the beginning of a new year. I have resolved to start a blog. On New Year’s Day I go for a long solo walk up the fire roads, through the oak groves, and across the meadows of the land I occupy. Heading across a sprouting green meadow (a pale, determined green, in the…