Writing exercises bookend the making of a three-dimensional mask that serves a dual purpose: to provide a layer of distance between the private self and the public blogger entering or re-entering the blogosphere (somewhat like a narrator functions in works […]
The other night, as my daughter and I grappled with her geography homework, we scanned through aerial photos of the sinuous path waterways make as they meander across the Earth. I couldn’t help but connect the winding pattern to writing. […]
You’ve settled on a succinct but rousing blog title with decent “click pull”—at least to attract your tribe. Now that your visitor has arrived, your next opportunity to woo lies in your subtitle which should appear in the head-mast of […]
Poet Liz Brennan and I collaborate when we can with prose poetry, thanks to Liz’s gentle invitation and perseverance. Liz’s blog reminds me of a mobius strip; she’s arrived at an ingenious structure, each week posting a tiny prose poem […]
Back in college, I had a boyfriend who chided me (he was a fellow poet) for the hours I spent writing journal entries. “If you invested your time instead crafting a poem a day or writing to any kind of […]
I am very excited to announce this project, meant as an active pathway to supporting women bloggers as they take the risk to launch or better their blogs. Are you looking for a community of women writers to surround you […]
The TV’s neutral male voiceover covers what we love about Egypt and their pharaohs: house-sized rocks that formed the pyramids dropped in place without machine, sentries to this day guarding the embalmed dead, the slight queen’s beauty and betrothal to […]
She dressed in a hurry or perhaps never wore a slip. The photo the press loved: a girl in a skirt, distance between her thighs backlit by the sun, a circle of children in her care birthed by other mothers. […]
Nefertiti on the Astral I did what I came to do. Dead, I have the luxury to know: the locus of power is not the body, though how lovely: my daughter’s daughter’s etc., daughter, sitting beside the Nile, sun falling […]
Blood-wing blackbird, deserting again the nest of spice, to burn, in the circle of my domain: the open miles of sky, my body—and edges of a stranger’s forged wings–meeting at the cusp of dawn, valves sweetening…. Amelia, the photo […]