A poem from my old life
Writing
Drop out or Opt In?
For some reason this crazy suggestion of adding new 200 buck bill every month was my last straw.
Alice and the Pedophile
When you find out what he did, you may wonder how I could have kept the worry beads. But I keep lots of things. I worried the beads for years. I still have a few, one placed in a homemade dream catcher that gives me no dreams.
Between a Rock and a Hard Place
The trans person is caught in the middle of this false dichotomy, dropped down like bait in the centre of the orchestrated battle.
Empty Nests
I was 30 for my first pregnancy and now I am 60. I am not going to say where did the time go? I won't say it.
Imagine being a Writer
I had a wonderful job this spring. I reviewed three 'crime' novels that were very different in tone and style for Atlantic Books Today and it was an absolute pleasure to write. Having a deadline was refreshing and invigorating - it made me feel young again. COVID years dropped off my shoulders and it felt … Continue reading Imagine being a Writer
January 2016
I feel like this will be the longest winter in history. I have been spinning in time since my son went to college. The Old Bitch Above saw it was wise to keep me busy so she gave me two night jobs through the summer to distract me from my thoughts. But now it is fall … Continue reading January 2016
Metamorphosis
I wrote poems when I was a child. I remember one that was pretty straight forward. It was about my life plan. I wanted children and then I wanted to write. At least that was the gist. When I mentioned this at breakfast the other day my husband said, ‘Be careful what you wish for, … Continue reading Metamorphosis
Lost scarf with gold thread
I had a beautiful scarf that I bought myself when I was out shopping with my precious first daughter. It was a warm gold and orange and turquoise, vibrant and fiery and calming all at once. I was wearing it on the day that I looked into my car's rear view mirror and saw my … Continue reading Lost scarf with gold thread
I missed you but I was busy thinking
I have gone through a quiet stage. I even hesitate to write in my journal. Sometimes I feel tired just thinking about putting my thoughts into writing. But I don't feel bad or sad at all. I am cruising. I am thinking. I remember talking with an American cousin of mine about whether natural birth … Continue reading I missed you but I was busy thinking
Notes from a Sinking Isthmus 