POET | PLAYWRIGHT | TEACHING ARTIST
Tanka Prose
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Bell Jar or Tea Cozy
This week for some reason, Leonard has been particularly intense on the morning walks. Birds are grabbing his attention lately. And he keeps burrowing into bushes before I tug him back. Something about spring I suppose. Maybe the rats are already leaving their nests? He was still wound up when I dropped him off at…
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Persephone’s Ambivalence
A cup of coffee and a clementine. In the 19th Century, fresh fruit was known to be a treatment for melancholy. I think this explains my odd habit of sniffing citrus rinds. I press them to my nose and inhale deeply. Over and over. Sometimes I forget myself and do it in public. In the…
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Illness and Recovery
The app says the moon is 98.5% full this morning. And that is more than I need to know. “Almost full” is fine. It’s overcast, but the wind blew the clouds away for a few moments while I was walking Leonard. Long enough for me to notice the almost full moon tinging the sky a…
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A Writing Practice
Or – What Writing Isn’t to Me My ex-husband used to call my writing a hobby. I had a Ph.D. in Creative Writing, and five traditionally published books at the time. I’d been vetted to become a member of the Norwegian Authors’ Union. I read my work at international festivals and translated and collaborated with…
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I’m Not Done Here
Every morning I face the blank screen and wonder if I will ever write again. If this is the day when it all stops. And I do something else for a few years. Starts, fits, fears. And perched on my clavicle is that oxpecker who continually picks at the open wound at the base of…