PROSE POETRY
Back Burners
To be continued
Finally — it’s the month I’m reminded of the beauty cycles of creation — what looms unfinished: crochet snood half-hooded, guitar song un-strummed, the memoir
my cousin printed and reread (to remind me) what I was writing — this is what happens when you actually reach out: an ex-boyfriend you miss, your friends in New York, your camp girl who lost love to cancer, a local buddy you all but faded from asks for a tarot reading — that tarot project
the prompts, the slow-moving book to go with the cards — but something new is eclipsing during this eclipse season
reminding the importance of what is important
does my son have to go to high school next year, and can it be in a bubble that protects our community from the snapping of pressure on synapses turned violent?
can we breathe before the election? not yet, not yet, not yet — today in history, I'm lost in the curriculum of primary sources
just imagine the analysis students of 2050 will write of our political comedians — brilliant and searing — adult onset ADHD has caught me, and so what if my desk is messy?
can’t you see I’m creating something beautiful from this disaster? conversations with Uranus and Pluto — surprises in…
