It's been two years since I've been on the road with my bicycle and typewriter, and I have to say, I've missed those long, contemplative hours between towns, and the unexpected pleasure of finding instant home in the faces of the strangers I met.
The normal way we meet the world is full of bumps and bruises and noise that scratches up the heart. And yet, if we can endure and lean in, we are widened and opened to a depth that weaves the tissue of the Universe together.
The River's Song is Jacqueline Bishop's first novel. She is also the author of two collections of poems, Fauna and Snapshots from Istanbul.
Psychologists might take a lesson from the writer Teju Cole, whose review of a new edition of Walcott's poems presents a succinct description of Walcott as an experimental poet, interested above all in making art based on perception -- the way things look.
I deserve to have someone(s) in my life that is EXCITED to hold my hand and maybe even, gasp, KISS me in public. ('cause I'm kind of awesome.)
An old friend died several years ago. At the time, I wrote this poem. I still can't delete his phone number from my contact list. To do so would seem so final, but I also still feel in contact with him.
At this stage in our lives we know what brings us joy, what turns us on, and what turns us off. Most of us have had enough sexual encounters to be in touch with ourselves and our sexuality.
Inspired by inspiration, here's a poem that tugs at the nerdstrings in all of us.
"If one is obsessed with finger puppets, one will write about finger puppets. My obsession happens to be the intersection of politics, subjectivity, aesthetics and race."
Forget developing relationships with those at the edge of anti-aging research. Perhaps you would do better by buddying up with an animator!
Micki Myers is a poet, blogger, teacher and mom, born in London but currently living and teaching in Pittsburgh. "Having survived a particularly vicious bout of breast cancer," she writes, "I emerged with new fake boobs and a determination to find it all amusing." Why?
We have only a few seconds to love the wonder out in the open or those we meet will swallow it. Seconds to let this timeless resource come into our knowing so it can save us from the brutality of surface living.
Will academia, deprived of its mystique, find it has also lost its purpose, even its soul? Will scholarship move outside the academy? Ours is an exciting time to be a teacher.
You're still sleeping. And I'm up, trying to work, to focus to not log on to you know what. I catch a moth in the dim hall search every inch of a cl...
The maximum 160 characters for texting and 140 for tweeting, along with other forms of social media, have a concentrating effect on the verbal environment.
The poems are years of listening to other people on the streets tell me their problems and most of it was always about a bad relationship. So I took what they told me and wrote about it like I was the one who went through all this bad stuff.