"If I'm really low, if I'm not doing well in my own life, maybe I want to sit down and go somewhere else. Maybe I want to write about a ridiculous family reunion in Nebraska, to not be in whatever my present emotion is."
When you die, you will look back
upon the motley, hurley-burley carnival
with a tiny pentagram of wry compassion
in your open, trusting eye
As human beings and writers, we are questioning the power of ink in altering the headline news. Some editors and publishers consider a literary call to arms a prerequisite, a necessary step in the global healing process; others find it a tacky, trite, and opportunistic maneuver toward personal publicity, rather like dressing up bloodshed for …
When I first thought that my musings might be good fodder for a column, if nothing else than to serve as a public forum for my self-obsession, I immediately began worrying that people would think I was trying to emulate the very successful Candace Bushnell and her "Sex & The City" legacy, or at least …
Come sit with me, in valleys
of my shoulder blades,
whistle something in my ear
No PC art could rescue her;
this thinness where thick plump belongs.