The Hunt by Michael Harris Picture of you Exactly one hundred years Dressed in wedding white And that same night Began the crooked journey Which thirty-nine years later Led to me I decided to dedicate the day Going far out of my way Heading up the mountain Where once my maternal blood lies Unmarked With no headstone to mark your lives Your loves Your sweat Determined I was Yet To…
poetry
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Five on Friday // My Favorite Poets
Read moreNew series, five things, on Fridays. Here’s a story. Back when I was in college, I had this professor. He was a wild-haired writer, a child of another era. He wore tweed blazers and drove a little sports car. He was the first person to…
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life lately // late summer {heart-spill}
Read moreIt’s been awhile since I “checked in” here on the blog. I’m always writing about the house, the garden, the babies — and I don’t often stop to update about me. Sure, all of those things are parts of me, but as a blog reader…
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Poetry Friday: For Women Who Are Difficult to Love
Read morePoetry Friday is a feature that I run once in awhile. A long time ago — before I was a mother, before I was a wife — I was a poet. Poetry was the thing that got me through many of my darkest hours. Once…
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Poetry: The Archipelago of Kisses | Jeffrey McDaniel
Read moreThe Archipelago Of Kisses | Jeffrey McDaniel We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don’t grow on trees, like in the old days. So where does one find love? When you’re sixteen it’s easy, like being unleashed with a credit card in a…
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Poetry Friday: Burning Oneself In | Adrienne Rich
Read moreBurning Oneself In | Adrienne Rich In a bookstore on the East Side I read a veteran’s testimony: the running down for no reason of an old woman in South Vietnam by a U.S. Army truck The heat-wave is over Lifeless, sunny, the East Side…
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Poetry: Another Poem About the Heart | Jenn Habel
Read moreAnother Poem About the Heart | Jenn Habel When the floor drops out, as it has now, you cannot hear the squirrel on the wire outside your window, the wheels spinning on the road below. You want only pity and are presented with the unbelievable…
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Poetry Friday: won’t you celebrate with me | Lucille Clifton
Read morewon’t you celebrate with me | Lucille Clifton won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up…
