• Life,  Poetry,  Truth,  Writing

    Of All the Places….

      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 the plate! boy, was mom mad! nail polish in the carpet. a bunny (and his poo!) in.the.house. a dog playing in our yard. pulling weeds every weekend. cleaning the bathroom. my bedroom with corner windows. always rearranging my books. lots of books. writing. lisa t lived across the street and one house over. cute mark, her…

  • Life,  Poetry,  Process,  Stories from the Art,  Writing

    The Poetry We Live

    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 own place on the fridge, but each needing to be moved closer to the others. Here’s what they said: The poetry we live. I moved them close together. Gave them their own space. Those four words have been there every day since, each time catching my eye when I walk by… and every time, I think, “What will the art…