The Philosophy of Separation: Why Art Owes You Nothing

Featured Image Source I’ve really been struggling with artists who are problematic. Sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to like anything anymore because as soon as I mention, say, Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse and how it cured my depression, somebody has to pipe up to remind me that she was horrendously anti-Semitic. Or, as soon as…

An Ode to Opportunity

Featured Image Source by Bruno Moraes Normally I don’t post poetry here; that’s for my side blog, A Room of My Own. But I figured since I’m still so emotional about the Mars rover Opportunity, I’d take a minute to mourn her loss on the main blog. I guess you could say I’m taking this opportunity to…

Milk Chocolate and Red

My mind thinks in terms of four o’clock.  Four, when I’d had to get ready for work.  Four, the only number that has two colors,  milk chocolate and red.  Four, the number of children, including me.  My soul thinks in terms of late afternoon light, And this is why I prefer it almost entirely.  Rarely…

Unedited Poem #13: Horizon

even when the sky is at its darkest, even when sea and storm rage  against the shore, you can still see– always see– the inky line  of the horizon  winking, as if it knows of a soon-coming  light despite the blackest night.

Dappled III: Bonfire

My father set up the logs and kindling in the night. He left us in the day and told me I would be in charge. I went outside to birth the flame and shadow with my light, And in that flame, I saw my soul, alive though on the marge. In the shadow I could…

I Am Not a Poet: An Essay

I never really thought of myself as a poetry kind of person until I found myself in my bathtub with a stack of Dickinson and Frost, with hundreds of used tissues scattered about like trashed snowflakes, whispering their last words to their unused loved ones, wishing them well and giving them advice with their last…

Unedited Poem #11: Pause

i stop to share  a quiet moment with the air.  a train in the  distance announces  its goodbye.  and the mountain  waits for my reply. 

Sneak Peek: Train Child

Author’s Note: I know I haven’t posted a real poem in a while but it’s only because I’ve been working on a whole lot of things. So here’s a sneak peek of one of the poems I’m working on, about living in the South and growing up in a small town.  I was born and…