Three poetic forms — sonnet, waka, acrostic — that attempt to impart the flow of life within the Patterns and Forms that both confine and define our experience of it.
A mere three years into my Baker’s Dozen, my heart stumbled and nearly fell.
After finishing my “man love” chapbook, I wanted to write something new. I eventually settled on a group of prose poems that reflect the changing light of life’s end game.
Earlier this year I published my first chapbook collection of poems. A sporadic memoir in verse form.
to find the answer
we’d need the wisdom of trees
we’d need to listen…
I wanted to share a few lines from poet Diane Wakoski that do a wonderful job of explaining what poetry has always meant to me.
I’m the best shoveler I know. Seriously. At age sixty-seven I can out shovel pretty much anyone. But becoming a prodigious shoveler was not the dream to which I aspired as a youth.
Nevada D. Holmes was my grandmother’s maiden name… she was my dad’s mom. I remember her as a small, quiet, proper old woman who required quiet behavior inside and controlled behavior outside.
A friend of mine asked me why a poem by the Chinese poet Tu Fu is posted on the front of this site, so I thought perhaps others may be curious about that as well.
Thirteen years. There are so many different ways to think about this number. Some people think of it as unlucky. But me… I’ve decided to think about it as a sort of calendar of possible events. A Baker’s Dozen worth of opportunities to experience the world I now inhabit.