“Mmmm.” A dozen voices in unison. Heads nod, claps splatter, polite, but well intentioned. “Wooo, Jenny!” One guy does the snapping thing. By the third reader, I begin to anticipate the Mmmm, an exclamation of knowing approval. After every poem: Mmmm. By coincidence, this happened a couple of weeks ago during an interview. A strong … Continue reading Mmmm
poetry
Thankful
Is this finally our year? No guests, no invites, no one to please but ourselves. No turkey or stuffing. No cringy corn. None of Julie’s carrot stew I pretend to enjoy. No football on TV or bottles of zin to make me regret sobriety. No arguments about immigration while we eat. A mid-day hike. A … Continue reading Thankful
Ember
A muted orange glow emanates from the core. The base, black as the night that envelops it, sits sentry, a stoic guard devouring excess light. No sound escapes save an occasional hiss, an infrequent pop. Insects swirl and dive, attacking the heart and the people surrounding it. Some bite, some buzz, some are simply deranged … Continue reading Ember
Hero Worship
Where are heroes born? Grandpa, Jesus, Indiana Jones. I missed that step as a kid, I skip that part today—no one I admire, no one to emulate. No one to let me down. A personal deficiency, an omission of character Never installed by my parents, instilled by my teachers. Irreverence fueled by neurodivergent contempt. My … Continue reading Hero Worship
Eight Ways to Improve Your Writing*
Six months ago, my career as a mountain bike coach ended with a sloppy tumble over the handlebars. My coaching stint was on its final lap anyway, this was Eli’s sunset season on the team. Now he’s building his own cadre of riding partners as a budding adult. And I got an extra forty-five days … Continue reading Eight Ways to Improve Your Writing*
A New Day
One million pounds of marble. It sits like a boulderor a bomb-sheltertwo blocks from the Square,which is what we call the town center even though it’s a circle.Past the comic book storeand the candy shopand the place that sellsexpensive shoes from Sweden,the century-old Federal Buildinglooms on the left shamingevery other property on the street. Forty-foot … Continue reading A New Day
Book Launch
In January, I posted The Routine, a flash piece illustrating my teenage struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I initially wrote it a few years ago, but in January I gave it a heavy edit and submitted it to Through the Looking Glass: Reflecting on Madness and Chaos Within, an anthology of short nonfiction and poetry … Continue reading Book Launch
We had Such a Brainiac-Amour *
* Why write a blog post no one wants to read about a song no one wants to hear? I love American music. I also love British rock from the late seventies and early eighties. In fact, at that time—the late seventies and early eighties—I graffitied my high school and then college desks by drawing … Continue reading We had Such a Brainiac-Amour *
Blaiku
Blossom blizzards blowbelow blust'ry blissful blue,blanket blushing blooms.
Unwelcome Attention
Oblivious. Or maybe an open ear, monitoring the room. Yes, probably that, so just an impression of oblivion. I don’t stop myself; I bury my nose in the junction of her neck and shoulder, dry and downy, and inhale the sweet perfume of clean. One eye opens, staring, not at me, but across the room, … Continue reading Unwelcome Attention
Blockade
The ramshackle jumble of tumble-down trees builds a blockade at the edge of my yard. Brown, mostly brown with highlights of muted green—ivy smothered trees, frozen, dried, projecting brown as well. So brownish on brown, in fading light it’s hard to focus on any one object. Fifteen years ago, my house freshly purchased, no deadfall, … Continue reading Blockade
Running beyond the edge of suburbia
We glide, side by side, matching stride and pace. Silent, except for breath, the quiet thump of rubber on asphalt, simultaneous, the steady rhythm accompanied by a pattern playing in my head. Sunny and warm, a gentle tailwind matches our pace, leaving the sensation that we’re standing still, inhaling the pollen-laden air we just breathed … Continue reading Running beyond the edge of suburbia
Blogs don’t eat crickets
Like any living creature, it must be fed, it must be nurtured, loved. Neglected, it dies or stagnates or shrinks which might be worse than death. This blog, like King Tut, the bearded dragon living caged in my family room, basking beneath heat lamps, bright white and scorching during the day, warm red and comforting … Continue reading Blogs don’t eat crickets
The Cat
I lie awake, the minutes after turning out my light, brain active, anticipating the drawing shade of sleep. I took Lorazepam, a mild narcotic. It numbs my brain, silences the concerns that shake me awake in the early hours of tomorrow. Sleep feels unlikely. I wait for the medicine to dissolve. I wait for my … Continue reading The Cat
My Spot
On Saturday, he woke up sick. Not sick in a way worth blogging about: no visits to the E.R., no uncontrollable vomiting, no diarrhea, he didn’t even have a fever. He was stuffed up, congested. He moved from bed to the corner of the couch, the spot where I always sit, next to the ceiling … Continue reading My Spot
Caffeinated #2
On Saturday morning my head pounds the rhythm of my pulse an alarm clock alerting me that the time to start drinking coffee has already passed. Also: Caffeinated
Motions of Tourette
Eyes clenched, squeezed like a pair of fists, seconds before a fight. Eyeballs lurch, left then right, pushing ripples behind my bunched-up lids. Rapid eye movements in a dream of pain. Probing for that sandpapery spot—oh, they itch so much. I think no one is watching. Teeth on edge, scraping, my jaw gliding, forward and … Continue reading Motions of Tourette
Resolve (a.k.a. shithole)
There was a time not so long ago when appalled by something Donald Trump said I’d attack my laptop spewing venom at the internet and cleanse myself and the rest of the world with the flames of my desire to negate his foul commentary with decency and righteousness. After staking out moral high-ground I held my head high smug … Continue reading Resolve (a.k.a. shithole)
Fire
As I dart in close to drop on a log the hairs on my knee singe. They shrink and curl and shrivel to my skin so it looks like I shaved my legs in blotches and clumps. Flames dance and crackle and leap, and as a gentle wind blows, bully their way to my side … Continue reading Fire
A (Name) Poem
Jeanie Jordon was my girl. My squeeze. My better half. At least for a few weeks. To the best of my knowledge, we never held hands, and we certainly never kissed. We were thirteen. For several consecutive years, I went to a music and arts camp an hour away from home. Two-weeks spent sleeping in … Continue reading A (Name) Poem
The Other Stuff 