It’s hard to write a coronavirus poem without turning political, so here it is without further commentary:
Three collaborative poems about Daylight Savings.
I get the nostalgic willies when I see a corpse of a barn when I drive through the country. These noble old wreckages deserve a poem. Photo credit ID 91213 © Jschaap26 | Dreamstime.com.
Last night we launched the 2020 edition of The Polk Street Review.
On Winter Solstice, I challenged my social media friends to contribute winter words to a collaborative poem. Here are the results.
Summer of 2019 has been hectic! I am delighted my brilliant husband had a successful summer with his Page & Stage theatre-for-literacy camp. We had a couple dozen energetic campers, great adult helpers, and a fun summer. One five-year-old went from not knowing all her letters to reading short sentences. Between that and some family …
Today’s poem is several years old, written about my husband waaaaaay before he was my husband. I had already played around with the concept of visual space through indentation, but this gave me the opportunity to play with the placement of individual stanzas around the image.