poetry
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And I Also Forget
Read more: And I Also ForgetToday my mom forgot that I had just visited. That floored me.
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September 3
Read more: September 3September 3 How did this summer day become this–cool, bright, hopeful?Tulip Poplar leaves mottle the driveway,having turned color already here in South Central Pennsylvania, which is somehow also the Northeast, and I’m sitting and sipping coffeetossing frisbees for our dogs and it’s only eleven degrees Celsius, as if summer’s clutch slipped and burned into fall–AKA…
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Just One More
Read more: Just One MoreI just found out that ping pong and table tennis are not the same game.
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“Sorry to Bother You,” Mom Said.
Read more: “Sorry to Bother You,” Mom Said.My mom asked me yesterday if she was my mom.
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or is it Hope?
Read more: or is it Hope?We had an office in our house in Indiana that is the model for this one. Because that office is in my head, I have a hard time reading the poem and knowing whether I’ve really captured what I still see about that space. But I’ve got the important parts, I think–how my mom did…
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Sebago, 6 a.m.
Read more: Sebago, 6 a.m.Six a.m. has quickly become 9:30 a.m. this morning, a poem that seems like it might have been written in an hour taking much more than that. One of the things I love about writing is the time I get to spend tending to individual word choices, choices that may not seem to have much…
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The Poet Projects 