"Good writing is always about things that are important to you, things that are scary to you, things that eat you up. But the writing is a way of not allowing these things to destroy you." John Edgar Wideman
I see your slippers, They say you are coming home. I am truly blessed. .....Back when we used to travel for work (remember those days?), Roak would be gone from home for a couple of weeks at a time. I loved the quiet and solitude of those days, just Greta and me in our mountain... Continue Reading →
According to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, "Vogon poetry is, of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem 'Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit... Continue Reading →
I stop, momentarily, in front of the house called 'The Bounty,' its sign now haphazardly leaning against a tree in the yard. And I wait. Waiting for the feelings I know must be here someplace. I am revisiting this place that we bought many years ago.A place that was going to be our home, our... Continue Reading →
I collect words, literally. Little pieces clipped from handbills, theater programs, birthday cards. I never have a plan for them, I just like keeping the words that inspire me. This year on Christmas day some of my words came together to form my intention for 2022.
Dear Utah, For the last few days, I have been exploring your back roads, moving through your landscapes, taking in your aromas of cedar, aspen, and alfalfa fields from my vantage on the back of a motorcycle. I have had some time to ponder you, so I hope you'll hear me out. I can't speak for all travelers, but... Continue Reading →