Category Archives: Poetry

Mini-Break 1: Sun Rays In Fog

“Brooklyn!” the mom on the Los Angeles playground called out to her child swinging from primary colored monkey bars. “Careful!” “Chicago!” a nearby dad called to his daughter. “Hold London’s hand, please!” “China and Thai,” cried another parent. “Play nicely!” … Continue reading

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Angst (Cheese & Strawberries Edition)

When you man your bookshelves for hours, reading first pages because you are maddened by your own first pages and can’t recall how to begin a story or a novel without every palabra jumping out at you with a buzzer sound … Continue reading

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Rukeyser, Hawks, Super Moon

Odd and disconcerting to write poetry and yet be totally unfamiliar with  Muriel Rukeyser’s The Life of Poetry until yesterday, though no alien to M.R.’s poetry and not completely in-the-dark to her biographies and interest in connecting science and poetry, scientific … Continue reading

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Poetry Reading (Sunday Edition w/Planet)

As I rifle/riffle through poems I’ve written, partially written, not written, but loaded into memory banks with lightly trembling girders—as I search personal archives for something embodying ‘concrete visual imagery’, I am reminded of what a narrative poet I am. … Continue reading

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O Hemet!

Tomorrow we leave for Hemet for the weekend. Luckily our part of the world seems to be entering a brief cooling trend. Hemet is notoriously hot. And, as if perversely, when waving goodbye to the sun across the flats, or … Continue reading

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Quote For The Weekend (Seriously Late Edition w/Rabbits)

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. —Anne Frank We tend to rotate which charities we give to monthly. Save The Children often tops the list. Also the Mae Tao … Continue reading

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Write it Down, Sherlock

As I scrub whatevers at the kitchen sink, thinking about Hadley Richardson because I’m reading The Paris Wife, mostly thinking how wrong the book’s cover is considering its subject, I’m wondering  if I’ll ever have a book cover of my own to … Continue reading

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Luke Put Up Your Visor

Look up. I was looking at Leroy, watching him think about calling everything off–his ears twitched and he swung his head weirdly to the right, because of me—and my Type A procrastination. Look up. I looked up—trees, that house perched precariously … Continue reading

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Ding Dong

If each of us would only sweep our own doorstep, the whole world would be clean.   —Mother Teresa A quote I’ve posted ad nauseam. It’s not easy, focused sweeping. Constant practice is necessary (for me). There is no one I can hire … Continue reading

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May Tonic (Cursing-in-Private Edition)

Trying to use a voucher for 3 free rides to Catalina Island and being told there’s no room on the boat by a severely rude someone you find it extremely difficult to dredge any compassion for simply because of their tone—noticing the pink … Continue reading

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April Lines

What a gift-packed month. Poetry has crammed my inbox daily. I went to a Rhapsodomancy reading at the Good Luck bar and listened to knock-you-off-your-feet lines from poets with poetry-spewing-volcanos where scalps should be. 1 day of NaPoWriMo left. So go on. Go write. You know you … Continue reading

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Voices

I stopped typing and froze in the bed office. A voice was in my house. Deep. Half whisper-in-a-frightening-tomb, half ogre-stuck-in-a-well. I set aside the laptop, rose from the bed office chair and peeked into the hall. No one. Except the … Continue reading

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Na? No. Hope? Yes.

Amidst the latest horrifying US events, poetry—much of it fresh off the brain—whirls tirelessly through every non-existent corner of the internet.  Look: In dark times, people go looking for poetry and I’m glad there is plenty to assuage, aid, comfort and … Continue reading

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NaNaNana Hey Hey Hey NaNa

Written next to the flower (see previous post): Tipping between lost and grateful; never traveling with grace or without sound doubt; raking up luck-bits when the world sleeps in its stifling old box; kissing the future into strum; hunkering down, … Continue reading

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Update 2: NaMeSitDif (etc.) Projekt

Since I forgot to Na on Monday, as I promised myself, and since I didn’t Na on Tuesday due to pressing engagements (Target, the teeth people), upon leaving the stables today I stopped at a No’ridge Starbucks on my way home, hobbling delicately inside, … Continue reading

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Update: NaMeSiDifStaDaiWri(expletive)Po

I forgot to go on Monday. Ummm…And here is a cat.

Posted in Avoiding My Writing, Children's Books, Fiction, middle grade, Poetry, Writer's Angst, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

NaMeSiDifStarDaiWri%#*Po Week (Partial Week Edition)

Next week (because my son resumes PreK after a 2 week spring break) is National PB Sit in a Different Starbucks Daily and Write a (insert expletive) Poem Week. Well, at least monday through thursday. Actually not tuesday because that’s when I … Continue reading

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Quote For The Weekend (Unchaste Edition)

True poets should be chaste, I know, but wherefore should their lines be so? —Catullus (Gaius Valerius, of course…) Of course he loved Lesbia! Sheesh. Get over it. Hopefully he ultimately got over it, IF he wasn’t 30 when he … Continue reading

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To All Rejections

To all rejections: I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am … Continue reading

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Old Town Poetry

I invited a friend to a poetry reading. 6 years ago this would have been a normal request of any of my friends. But now I’m a mom. Now most of my friends are mothers and working mothers and mothers with working-OT-husbands–thus … Continue reading

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Clues

So it’s time to leave the Little House and tear him away from several days of precious Pottery Barn living and Angry Birds on the Kindle at odd hours and foods we don’t normally eat at home, like grated-cheese-and-nitrate-free-bacon-quesadillas-for-breakfast-with-1-maraschino-cherry-on-top, and … Continue reading

Posted in Children's Books, dog, Fiction, Me and Us, ocean related, Poetry, Santa Barbara, Writer's Angst, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Flu 2

When I’m sick like this (somewhere near the darker side of the middle line between healthy and barely-not-dead), my limbs melted into the mattress, not asleep, though not alert, vaguely hearing my son and husband pretend-Kung-Fu in the living room, my brain distresses … Continue reading

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Birthday Edition

On the eve of my hubbadobubbaboblah birthday: tucked my son into Pre-K, FB’d (i.e. avoided yoga), did yoga, even Superman, even V-ups, edited poems, sighed at the unicycle, edited poems, zoomed the boy to karate testing for his green stripe … Continue reading

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February Mini-Break

This visit, Dana Point-by-the-tru-la-la-ocean was hotter than Reseda by 1, February-heatwaving degree. 79 vs. 78. So of course we escorted my father into the minivan and drove to The Pilgrim and admired its masts and restoration for the gazzilionth time … Continue reading

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Quote For The Weekend: Early Edition (Due To Colds, Flu, Pediatric Dental ER’s, Close-Family Close Calls, Going Away For The Weekend & A Unicycle That Still Needs Mastering…)

Try, fail. Try again, fail better. —Samuel Beckett In Sunday’s typically heat-knit twilight, I glance up from pinching pie crust into old-fashioned, part curtains patterned in fat cherries. A palomino trots down my street, its rider guiding with the blithe … Continue reading

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