Last month, The Bellingham Review published my essay, “Children of a Dark Wind” and I forgot to tell you! I’m that befuddled with this summer of wind. Do you feel it? The wind, the storms, in our minds and bodies, our earth? Do you taste its fire and smoke? Are you as rattled as I am on this first day …
Happy Spring, All! I couldn’t be happier or more grateful that my essay “Orphans of a Dark Wind” has been accepted by the Bellingham Review. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the editors for selecting my piece.
Read my short story, Old Harry’s Daughters, on Craft Literary Online. I’d love to hear your thoughts…
I will not look to the desert of my landscape to find you, dear, who is not there.I will not look for your hands or the half-moons rising in the valleys of your fingernails,I will not search for the musty smell of your scalp,the dash of lashes around you eyes,the curve of your ear,deep wrinkle of your brow. I will …
Beloved,we are barbed and blunted,or so it feels as our fever cools. Another autumn,another winter of waiting for June,we pace corner to corner like worried dogs. What will we do,so naked, so bloated,so ready to run? And whose hand will turn the key?Who will release usinto tomorrow’s storm? As we leave this coop,will we crawl, or walk, or limp?together or …
My drug counselor says I have an anger problem. You need to find your Higher Power, Tansy. Well,the only way I’ll believe in that clay-brained-higher-power-business is if he or she or it gets me out of this treatment facility where the inmates are called residents and we’re all kept under lock and key due to the supposed danger we pose …
Published in The Portland UpsideApril 2010by Julianna Waters I took you with me in my pocket,folded but not crumpled,to see the canyon and the mule deer,to hear the Imnaha Riversing to rock, grass and limb:rush, rush, don’t hurryrush, rush, don’t hurry. I worked my way up a crumbling path.The sun, barely awake,had not yet poured it’s warm glazedown the canyon …
I wrote this poem over the summer for my friend, Rick. For years he’s been struggling with omentum cancer and ministering to the masses with his music despite the ups and downs of his illness. This week, we celebrate his life and spirit. Rock on, pal… How It Will Be When death comes to youit will be by invitation: aknock …
Portland has been in a deep freeze. For the first few days it snowed and every-day life came to a stand still while sled runs, cross-country skiing and snowman construction became the norm. Indoors, we relaxed, slept late, read. We stayed in our Pjs, and made soup in the crock pot. Even with the squeals of children sliding down the …
In Jim Harrison’s amazing poem “Spring”, the line “a break from the struggle of being” caught my eye. I thought to myself, Wow, I’d really like a break from my struggle to be.” At the time, anxiety had my stomach tight and achy. I couldn’t wrangle my thoughts. In fact, my thoughts felt like wild, ornery things intent on a chase through …