Edward Estlin “E. E.” Cummings (October 14, 1894 – September 3, 1962) This is the only poem I remember reading in high school lit class, and it’s because of the penultimate line: …
It’s Friday and also Day 4 of this #onehundreddaysofwonder adventure. As I mentioned to a friend this routine of creating every day is good for me, both in terms of…
Very often when I’m reading or writing I get distracted by a word. It might be a word I don’t know, or one I thought I knew but clearly didn’t,…
Tuesdays seem quick like zippers. This post is a Tuesday type of post, utilizing Naani (Naneelu) poetry structure, an Indian form developed by Dr. N Gopi in 1998. In this…
We’ll restart the clocks Mantle the sun This too will have passed The worst will be done. The doors will swing open The seats will be filled The streets will…
I have avoided going out of late, keeping up my part of the bargain, but the package I should’ve mailed in January was becoming part of our furniture and so…
John Prine left us yesterday, and if ever anyone had the right to skid sideways into Heaven, breathless, wrung out, and grinning, it was surely him. On this second day…