Oh boy, I’m writing a bunch of poems at once which is really disconcerting, and also really satisfying–well not satisfying, but kind of exciting. Like there are all these ideas that pop up as I’m walking around or drinking coffee or talking to someone about something unrelated (and just now I stopped typing this…
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There are a lot of things that I’m reading and thinking about that I want to tell you about, but time seems to have shrunk lately, or maybe it’s just that casual words are harder. I was away for a few days and met a bunch of stunning brilliant people who kept giving me book…
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Saturday before last, a wonder-friend sent me this poem by Naomi Shihab Nye. So many times, as we navigated the crowds and listened to the children speak and watched little kids holding signs that said, “I don’t want to be next,”at the March For Our Lives, I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude and sorrow and…
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