Poetry doesn’t exist to give you prose. It’s this other thing. It is something that has to do with the sound of words, the sound of letters, the spaces between words, letters, how words connect to the mind and to the throat at the same time.
My 84-year-old mom holding her 9-year-old self
and two weeks before she passed, my father-in-law also did along with his pocketful of index cards and pens so he’d never lose an important thought
A week at the Squaw Valley Community of Writers
and the crescent shadows during the solar eclipse
The Joyous Victories:
Peace to all of you throughout the New Year!