If an anti-semite is one who hates, disrespects, discriminates against Jews, what’s the word for one who hates Muslims? We need a word for that, a shaming, Mel Gibson condemning, horrifying word.
As Michael and I were traveling from Austin to Tucson, we had an ugly encounter with a Continental ticket agent named Russ (we
I entered the world of Slam poetry after some motivator told me that I couldn’t, that it simply was not something that “middle-aged white women from the suburbs” did. I ran right out and signed up after that. Now, 11 years later, I went back to the National Poetry Slam in Austin, TX.
Four days of learning and fun in rural Wisconsin. No cheesy jokes about WI needed, it was just plain fun. Did some workshops, danced my feet off and sang (badly). Was introduced to two new books that are exciting:From Disability to Possibility by Patrick Swartz. He is a dynamite speaker and
THIS is why I am always on a diet. People treat me too well. Who knew that Minneapolis has such good Italian food? Who could say no? Not me.
Teacher after teacher came up to me at the literacy conference at Hamline and told me that this is a
The heat is everywhere this week. In the sock drawer, the cabinet in the bathroom, seeping out from under the fridge and toasting my toes. It’s straining at the windows and blaring through the skylight. Cleveland does heat in a very wet way, hair adhering to the neck, shoes stuck on the
It’s almost trite for a poet to have a garden, the seed being the original metaphor and all. I don’t grow anything practical. I used to grow tomatoes until I battled with a fungus of some kind and lost three years in a row. I grow flowers. Two, now three beds
Tshirts say: We put the fun back in Dysfunctional
The problem with letting a blog go into a holding pattern for a while is that life doesn’t have a hold button and so many astonishing things happen, it’s hard to know where to start to catch up.
Summer has been incredible. Vacation to Oak Island, NC with the whole family, I
Perry, Georgia is about a 1.5 hour drive south from Atlanta. I’ve been to Perry before to visit schools and love the quaint downtown area. But this conference wasn’t downtown — it was at the fairgrounds. I know what county fairgrounds are about — this is where the prize winning apple pies
After the sixth grade assembly a boy came up to me and asked, “Why do poets always write about love? Never did ME any good.”“How old are you?”“Eleven.”“Well, give it another chance, you’ve got time.”“Love is just a kick in the crotch.” And he walked off before I could get any more senseless words out