POET | PLAYWRIGHT | TEACHING ARTIST
Leonard is stretched out on the floor next to me. And barking at the neighbor’s voices squeezing in through the windowsill. His concern is unconvincing. I suppose it’s nice that he feels a sense of duty. He hasn’t moved in a half an hour. I expect this morning’s exceptional walk along the trail was too…
This morning I sit with the awareness that I was nearly sucked into responding to a comment on an Instagram post: a post with an excerpt from one of my diary entries about getting off Facebook – about my longing for discussions rather than debates, for something other than slogans and soundbites. Something other than…
And not a poem. I’m jumping off here. I’m not on a journey to improve myself every day. I’m not aiming for the unattainable ever-better, of self-development’s neat infinity. I’m a warped impressionist mess doing the best I can each dayin each moment I manage to catch myselflaughing: me as an infant innocently tasting the…