another daydream

another daydream

Thursday, July 30, 2020

Tiny Seed Literary Journal

Nothing like giving back to nature that gives so freely to us...

Tiny Seed Literary Journal supports nature conservancy and offers a home for nature based art and writing. My poem "On the Porch" is published there today (link below), as part of their Pollinator Project.

Friday, July 17, 2020

Upcoming Book

My dear friend, JP Normile, has taught me most of what I know about gardening, has teamed up with me for a poetry reading and art show, has shared his incredible talents for composition in music, art, and writing, and...we are collaborating on a book.

His ink drawings will be paired with his stories and my poetry. We are going about this in a purely inspirational way––you could say that his art is the ground where I keep my focus until something blooms into a poem. We look forward to announcing the publication date! For now, we've got our hands full...bringing our work to fruition.


Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Lucid Dream

In my lucid dream last night, these lines were paired with a framed picture of Dorothy Parker.
I couldn't find any record that she wrote this, but she may have said it––at least to me.

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

"Call and Response"

Call and Response

Leave it to the fern,
enveloping millions of years,
to a planet on a perilous spin.

Ancestral fern leans along borders
where complacency lands,
waving its leaflets in unison
for E Pluribus Unum. 


Thursday, May 28, 2020

First Reading

Poetry readings are non-existent or virtual as we stay safe at home. I'm missing two scheduled poetry readings during this time, so here's a throwback to my first public poetry reading. This was held at the Strathmore Mansion in Maryland, with live music accompaniment. The event honored veterans and family members as well as the healing art of writing. I was the only military spouse to write and share a poem, titled "Countdown from Deployment." This poem hasn't been published anywhere (not for lack of trying...), and I hold it close (to continue trying...). You're welcome to have a listen––and hang in there, because the audio is soft at the outset, then the sound picks up:

Wednesday, May 6, 2020

"Spring Sequestered"

Spring Sequestered
––after William Blake

for the hours perusing
my backyard 

while we cannot traverse
the world,

lilies of the valley profess
a governance of air

from a square below a bay

along a slope beside lopsided
slate stones

meant for stepping
––hours that have stooped

interminable, I see eternity
in a flower


Saturday, April 11, 2020

"Disappearing Ink"

Disappearing Ink

I stopped writing when I became the poem.
I stopped writing when I became the poem.
My arms and legs carried the phrase without reason.
My arms and legs carried the phrase without reason.
My reason stopped when I carried the poem.
I became arms and legs writing without the phrase,

while all that happened faded from view.
While all that happened faded from view,
the page of another morning was beginning.
The page of another morning was beginning.
Morning happened while another page faded
from view. That was the beginning of all.

The ground speaks of my visitation.
The ground speaks of my visitation
and story spores spread in mossy fruition.
And story spores spread in mossy fruition.
Mossy spores of my visitation spread ground
and the story speaks in fruition.

Another story stopped without reason when
my arms and legs faded from the page. I carried
mossy spores while view of morning was spread
in fruition. All that happened became the beginning. 
The poem speaks of the ground writing my visitation
and I the phrase. 


Monday, March 30, 2020

The Poetry Shift

We are all coping differently in these uncertain times. Poetry, by its timeless nature, and its ability to sustain the spirit with an almost (if not actual) mystical perspective, is a good place to spend some time. I find that reading a poem provides a welcome shift from reading news or absorbing information. Give yourself permission to wander into and through a poem.

And, try the random act of reading, which is how I opened a book to this page––a poem by Mirabai of the 16th century:


Blessings, dear readers.