Blogging All Over The…
PB ReadsSecond Sunday Poetry SeriesJune 9th, 201319 days to go.
PB ReadsRhapsodomancy Reading Series, Good Luck Bar, Los Feliz, CA 7:30pm, At which I will read, see Blogroll Rhapsodomancy link below. Excitement reigns!February 3rd, 2013PB and several other readers take part in Los Angeles' top rated reading series. See you there!
PB Rides!UPDATE: 3 rotations of unicycle pedals on PB's Birthday does not count as riding the unicycle by her birthday. She will now RIDE the unicycle by June 1st, 2013--just in time for summer.June 1st, 201311 days to go.
Written To Date…
Tag Archives: poetry
How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. —Anne Frank We tend to rotate which charities we give to monthly. Save The Children often tops the list. Also the Mae Tao … Continue reading
Look up. I was looking at Leroy, watching him think about calling everything off–his ears twitched and he swung his head weirdly to the right, because of me—and my Type A procrastination. Look up. I looked up—trees, that house perched precariously … Continue reading
If each of us would only sweep our own doorstep, the whole world would be clean. —Mother Teresa A quote I’ve posted ad nauseam. It’s not easy, focused sweeping. Constant practice is necessary (for me). There is no one I can hire … Continue reading
What a gift-packed month. Poetry has crammed my inbox daily. I went to a Rhapsodomancy reading at the Good Luck bar and listened to knock-you-off-your-feet lines from poets with poetry-spewing-volcanos where scalps should be. 1 day of NaPoWriMo left. So go on. Go write. You know you … Continue reading
Amidst the latest horrifying US events, poetry—much of it fresh off the brain—whirls tirelessly through every non-existent corner of the internet. Look: In dark times, people go looking for poetry and I’m glad there is plenty to assuage, aid, comfort and … Continue reading
Written next to the flower (see previous post): Tipping between lost and grateful; never traveling with grace or without sound doubt; raking up luck-bits when the world sleeps in its stifling old box; kissing the future into strum; hunkering down, … Continue reading
Since I forgot to Na on Monday, as I promised myself, and since I didn’t Na on Tuesday due to pressing engagements (Target, the teeth people), upon leaving the stables today I stopped at a No’ridge Starbucks on my way home, hobbling delicately inside, … Continue reading
I forgot to go on Monday. Ummm…And here is a cat.
Next week (because my son resumes PreK after a 2 week spring break) is National PB Sit in a Different Starbucks Daily and Write a (insert expletive) Poem Week. Well, at least monday through thursday. Actually not tuesday because that’s when I … Continue reading
True poets should be chaste, I know, but wherefore should their lines be so? —Catullus (Gaius Valerius, of course…) Of course he loved Lesbia! Sheesh. Get over it. Hopefully he ultimately got over it, IF he wasn’t 30 when he … Continue reading
To all rejections: I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am building a cathedral. I am … Continue reading
I invited a friend to a poetry reading. 6 years ago this would have been a normal request of any of my friends. But now I’m a mom. Now most of my friends are mothers and working mothers and mothers with working-OT-husbands–thus … Continue reading
On the eve of my hubbadobubbaboblah birthday: tucked my son into Pre-K, FB’d (i.e. avoided yoga), did yoga, even Superman, even V-ups, edited poems, sighed at the unicycle, edited poems, zoomed the boy to karate testing for his green stripe … Continue reading
Quote For The Weekend: Early Edition (Due To Colds, Flu, Pediatric Dental ER’s, Close-Family Close Calls, Going Away For The Weekend & A Unicycle That Still Needs Mastering…)
Try, fail. Try again, fail better. —Samuel Beckett In Sunday’s typically heat-knit twilight, I glance up from pinching pie crust into old-fashioned, part curtains patterned in fat cherries. A palomino trots down my street, its rider guiding with the blithe … Continue reading
My sliced finger salved and bandaged, wiping cat gak off my bare foot, it was about then I remembered my promise to learn to ride the unicycle before my next birthday, so I went outside, snatched up my son’s helmet … Continue reading
This was last weekend, all Winter beachness, crisp, clear light, air cold enough for us to wear sweaters we haven’t seen in over a year, sweaters with jeans and sweats and bare feet as we ran on glassy beach, Anacapa, … Continue reading
Rhapsodomancy has officially announced the reading I’m participating in on Sunday, February 3rd, 2013, 7:30p.m. Be there! And have a sidecar with me afterwards. Or, you know, a martini. The Good Luck has just the right amount of dim and … Continue reading
This morning my husband burst through the front door, yanked the tiny earphones out of his ears and, flushed from his post-run endorphin rush, declared: The Death Of Bees, we must own it! The Death Of Bees, by Lisa O’Donnell (check out … Continue reading
Seabiscuit. I’m working backwards—Seabiscuit with a cheesecake glopped in cognac whipped cream. Also called Vital Precedence due to a greed it’s important (vitally so) to indulge this time of year. A dozen kids galloping around our yard, dogs weaving between (or dodging) Ninja … Continue reading
Full Howling Moon Southern California’s brittle December 24th: swells, surfboards, fire-skin, a holiday bbq by a slide-dunked swimming pool blooming algae, all palms standing by–city logo, city tattoos. The Hollywood Hills Gelson’s Market evacuates delicacies when a parking lot palm … Continue reading
You may have tangible wealth untold; Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold. Richer than I you can never be – I had a Mother who read to me. –Strickland Gillilan Who read to me: Mother, great-grandmother, grandmothers, godmother, great … Continue reading
Locust After the midnight bell, the battered book closed, flame of the inherited candle snuffed, we recover from stifling night, erasing radical dream-dyes we will never share (though not because we are secretive) and we remember I’ve just returned from … Continue reading