Category Archives: Poetry
Death Poem
Orphan We are the children. Cream to curse. In- structed: here ya go, go, here ya, here ya go, go, go fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck Did you say that? Well. I did. Finally: where were you … Continue reading
Rain Or Shine: Strike On
A couple of weeks before the strike, I was John Snow: I knew nothing. There are always excuses I can credit a busy mother. But everyone is busy. I simply wish I had paid any attention to events leading up … Continue reading
#MeToo
I didn’t look at Twitter for 24 hours a few days ago. #ROSEARMY I posted a bit on FB. #metoo I switched FB from public to only friends. #WTH”FRIENDS”??? I’ve been reading FB and Twitter in bed before turning out … Continue reading
4th Fireworks (“Shh!” Edition)
Happy 4th! This: This splendor in this country: Here, they viewed this: Our 4th? This: Visiting family, as we were in the middle of watching ‘Moana’, I cried: OMG TIME FOR FIREWORKS. And my FIL brought us here, to … Continue reading
Where I Discovered Poetry Last Weekend
Here: And here: How my family inspired me last weekend? Via this: And this: And this: What it feels like to finish a pre-mini-vacation writing goal and move to the next? This: Came down with the flu upon returning from family shenanigans. However, today … Continue reading
Inspiration (Mother’s Day Edition)
What inspiration looks like. Feels like. That guy, reading me his MDay card.
Third Eye (April Edition w/Cat)
Woke up at 430am, pressed on with the last 40 pages of revision, my 3rd eye drowsy, but game. Now that I’m wide awake, overly caffeinated and the little boy is at school and the husband is off to heroic … Continue reading
Coffee Kick & Go (Tremble Edition)
It may be poetry month in the USA, but here at PB Writes the author was up late revising her MG novel, prepping it for the agent requesting a read. This sweet, cool and sunny spring morning–after creating pancakes-secreted-with-carrot-puree for the boy, feeding … Continue reading
SCBWI-LA Writers & Illustrators Day 2017 (Links Edition)
I was asked by SCBWI-LA to write about my experience at the recent WID. The piece is up on the Kite Tales blog. 1, 2, 3: LINK. Such a luxury for me to discard certain hats (taxi-mama, chef of sorts, … Continue reading
Kids Poetry Night
Tuesday, February 28th, a freaky political event occurred on TV, but also Poetry Night at my son’s school. Children and parents gathered to read/share poems from books they brought to the event and books supplied by the school’s librarian. Loved hearing … Continue reading
Hearts
Just. So. Simply. Timely. And simply nice.
Boo On Drugs
I wrote in a frenzy from 10 a.m. to 1:00p.m., then lay down for a nap before zooming to fetch my 3rd grader from school, but my iPhone was on mute, so I didn’t hear the alarm, but I did hear, … Continue reading
Louise Penny
Where has Louise Penny been all my life? I was completely not swept up, but vacuumed into A Great Reckoning and have since been binge reading the Chief Inspector Gamache novels–but I have to say, so far the other books … Continue reading
RIP Poem
Because my father resides in me I am what others expect to see– though not as or not ever without less this or that & always 1 count behind or is it ahead of much worse: that 70’s divorce, old split/split … Continue reading
Chapbook Publication
Finishing Line Press is releasing my chapbook of poetry, Valley Meditation (with Palomino), March 23rd, 2016. Yes, that’s right: This March, the one right around the corner from El Nino–except that EN isn’t really hitting my portion of summer-deflated valley. … Continue reading
Fire
We left our drought-socked stifling valley at 815am and by 2pm—Hwy 99 to orchard-heavy back roads with stop signs, to another “highway”, to back roads with stop signs and colonies of slender giants we realized were members of the Stanislaus … Continue reading
Relief (Death’s Placards Edition)
There are fairly positive placards to be discovered–usually somewhere behind closed eyes–when Death (not waltzes in, there was no waltzing in my dad’s case) knocks down continents to claim, abscond-with, pose in a peasant blouse splotched in redwood forest mulch … Continue reading
Overcast In The Valley
Craving a view, I rode the escalator to the 3rd and final floor of that Macy’s and speculated on valley through tinted windows grand enough for a museum. No thunderheads. Not the merest ribbon of blue sky. No sun. Mounds … Continue reading
