Category Archives: Writing

Hot Pink

   When I was 14 I had a vivid demonstration of the paint chip illusion. The paint wasn’t actually chipping. The term referred to small squares of color on strips of light cardboard, with dramatic names printed below them. Stores that … Continue reading

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Writing on the Wall

   When I was 16, I got permission to write on the walls of my bedroom. The room’s closet and the adjoining bathroom created about four feet of entry hall that begged for decoration. After I made a short argument for … Continue reading

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Sonnet & Site Map

When I was 41 I began regular sonnet-writing. I was fresh off the boat, but the boat was a cruise ship to Alaska. I’d had an intense and happy relationship with the cruise’s piano player, falling so deeply in love … Continue reading

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Dear Diary

     When I was 14 years old, I kept a diary. It was a corny store-bought book, bound in imitation leather and labeled “Diary” in golden script, starting its lined pages with January. I kept it that year and continued … Continue reading

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