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And On the Walk Home …
at the end of the day when the sun was getting low I saw along Commonwealth Avenue white hydrangea champagne roses silver-tipped greenery the rock dove up on a telephone wire ash grays and the stone...
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Family through Words and Images
Henrietta Bruce Sharon drew this picture for the anthology, Golden Slippers. When I showed it to a friend his eyes watered and he said, “You should send this picture to your brother. You and he are...
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Guest Blog Appearing on Addictive Fiction
I’m excited to share that I have a guest blog appearing on Molly Anderson-Childers’ Addictive Fiction blog. You can find my words and images here:...
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this week, meet the editors of talking writing!
Pens, Paper, Postcards The camera is not going away, but if I have one goal in 2013, it is to do more creative writing. Without doubt motivation has come from my involvement with Talking Writing, a...
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what happens after reading dr. seuss
I do not like bananas. I do not like them green or gold. I do not like them hot or cold. I do not like them with pretty brown spots. I do not like them cut into pots. I do not like them sliced thick or...
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a lurking essay?
I can’t yet see the words but I feel them, somewhere, somehow, embodied in this apple with its lovely leaf. Yes, a weight of hidden words. I hope to find them before the month’s end, to glimpse their...
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Lin Nulman’s Sights of the City Haiku
Boston Public Garden Street Light When I first read Lin Nulman’s haiku, I told her that her words made me want to paint, to capture the vivid impressions she conveyed of Boston. I have yet to pick up...
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the sight reminded me of a coastal cave …
… flooded with light that brands the walls a golden cream. It reminded me of squeezing through a dark mountain passage and stumbling upon a room lit by bioluminescent growth upon the walls. But in...
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resting
Would you believe I was restless this morning? Probably the two cups of strong coffee. I could not settle down to work with words or images. Finally I began picking through a box with writing from...
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a TW interview with Terry Tempest Williams
Please, please, please treat yourself to this Talking Writing interview, “Silence is Where We Locate Our Voice,” by Lorraine Berry with Terry Tempest Williams. I consider myself quite lucky to have...
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you should write …
We spoke by phone. I sat in my kitchen in Somerville, MA while my younger brother sat outside his home in Lynchburg, VA. After I had described my latest walk by the water and what I might write...
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no picture but i can share that …
in the garden below chamomile grows white petals bright in the light of the setting sun spreading profusely wonderfully wildly soon to be cut I’m sure but not yet not yet
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waiting on the music*
As I work with this image of a leaf for this post to share with you I find myself singing these words with great zest and sincerity and yes I sound pretty good (or maybe not) but since I cannot read...
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i will miss the leaves …
… but i am happy to be home. Plus we returned just in time to attend a book festival in Boston. No books were bought but I did have the pleasure of meeting some of the people behind 21st Editions, The...
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life in words and images
Yesterday, in a coffee-stained manilla folder, I found an old personal essay. I almost posted it on this blog but I remained indecisive about the imagery with which to pair the words. Embedded in the...
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wonderfully out of focus
through two panes of old glass rippled and bubbled branches on display, barely lit by the setting sun while reflected in the glass light from the lamp indoors my camera in that moment out of focus but...
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marigold
during my travels of all the herbs and plants left behind the marigold alone did not survive except there is a single blossom autumnal orange with patches of gold broken off I suppose as its green...
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my feather is on page 34 and …
… paired with a powerful poem referencing Icarus. It can take a while for the free version of the 52 page journal to load but it is worth it to start from page one and work your way to the end. This...
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when it rains
where do the squirrels go perhaps inside a tree or beneath a big leaf maybe underground to huddle in a group a few brave souls probably stay with faces upturned to the sky I’m pretty sure that I’ve...
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winter into spring
This past year I read quite a few slave narratives by African Americans who were interviewed in the late 1930s to document their childhood experiences and memories of slavery prior to the Civil War....
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