But we have music
When I saw Laurie Doctor’s poem in two alphabets yesterday, it reminded me of what emerged at choir this week. Laurie is a gifted calligrapher, painter,…
When I saw Laurie Doctor’s poem in two alphabets yesterday, it reminded me of what emerged at choir this week. Laurie is a gifted calligrapher, painter,…
The late, great Woody Guthrie wrote his most famous song 85 years ago today: This Land Was Made For You and Me. At the bottom of…
Some ideas arrive in the form of a dream. ♦ Night is arrogant ♦ particularly if you don’t like winter ♦ but sometimes, as an antidote…
I first published this post in September 2020, but the question feels important again: What kind of stories do we need to help us navigate this…
Sundays are for living which explains why I neglected to post a found poem yesterday despite my goal of consistency. I spent the day immersed in…
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, There is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, The world is…
Winter has receded for now, interrupted by an early snow melt resulting in a festival of mud. The word mud, meaning “moist, soft earth,” can be…
I burrowed in over Christmas and New Year’s to write long hours, stare out windows, dive into memory’s murky seas. I’ve been working on an essay…
All knots have their purpose: Reef knots bind, sheet bends join, A bowline is a rescue knot For unclaimed souls and haunted minds. Yet no saint…
Commatology? What’s that? In case you’ve ever wondered where this blog got its name, this post from January 2014 spells it out. I edited a dissertation…