of all the places, i remember it best. our house on the corner - suburban Miami circa 1970s: 3 bedrooms. long hallway. “florida” room. tall heater on the living room wall. a front porch for making mud pies. sunday dinners on the homemade table. jumping fish. spilled spaghetti.... slid right off … Continue reading Of All the Places….
I often stand at our fridge, looking at the dozens of words, all magnetized and waiting to be noticed, moved, and meshed into a poem or story. I wait to see what jumps out at me - combinations of words that take on a life of their own. A few months ago, four words stood out - each in its … Continue reading The Poetry We Live