Category Archives: Writing

When I decide to write a poem, I start to sweep inside myself, begin to sing iambically, and peer into my heart. The circle in the square’s a lovely thing that leaves four pointed corners where abide my dusty passions, … Continue reading →

A thousand poems this weekend I reviewed; a myriad of metered monographs have filled my time and sent my attitude to proud embarrassment, self-conscious laughs, and growing confidence. Oh, I read those I should discard, but there are dozens more … Continue reading →

I watch a woman sketch me as we ride, her oval face confronting me or down- cast on her hidden lap, eyes open wide or forming crescent moons in lashing brown. She tries to be discreet; she makes her stare … Continue reading →

I whirl with words and spin them from my tongue as if I would a wonder weave of all the magic phrases learned since I was young and dervish, since I was spider small. I prisoned insects then to learn … Continue reading →

Oh I can pen advice I wouldn’t heed, compose an argument that I’d ignore, devise a dialogue I’d never read, report a juicy item that would bore me if I happened on it in a book, and even leave me … Continue reading →

Of all the gifts my life bestows on me ideas I value most. Computer treasures electricity but software is a ghost that current-craves as we require blood, as sunshine is essential for the bud, and we, elaborate, are built to … Continue reading →

I can make a satisfying meal: tasty mixture at a low expense. I can cook a dinner of appeal but I can’t fabricate ingredients. I can change an argue to agree (switch a letter, make the order squirm). Composition is … Continue reading →

I was browsing through old poems recently, and came across two written 17 years ago but in the same week, about life with my kids. I was 44 at the time. Katie had just turned 18 and Danny was 12. … Continue reading →

As far back as I can remember, I wanted to write. I’ve always loved stories and verse, and I’ve been dabbling with them, or more, since I learned to read in 1956. And at least through adolescence, I operated beneath … Continue reading →