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Memory, Power
I’ve forgotten so much of what’s passed through my history. Surprising, at times, is what I remember. Poems I wrote years ago can stick like a pop song if their backdrop, as I wrote, was sharp and strong. For something like a decade I was part of a writing group, the Monday Muses, a group Read more
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Bijou and the Philosopher Tree
Like an ancient tree, a story has an inevitable internal logic that the writer must find and follow. Read more
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This is the day I die
When the Committee knocks at the door, I am clean, dressed, my hands folded in my lap as I sit, waiting. Read more
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