Three bursts of pandemic poetry, courtesy of word magnets.
Shared this on Instagram and Facebook last month, when I got another tattoo: For most of my life, I’ve been drawn to Sutro Tower, which sits atop a hill in San Francisco. While it’s iconic, it’s often overshadowed: not necessarily pretty, and certainly not golden. For me, it has a presence much like the fog,Continue reading “Piercing through the fog”
It’s cool today. Looking out of my tiny house’s window, I see fog in the valley. It meanders. It lingers. I behave the same when I think, when I write. As I stare at it, the fog takes me places: places unknown, places I’m trying to reach. The fog is freeing, but overpowering. We have an interesting relationship, theContinue reading “Fog”
I wish I had more time so I could be a better version of myself A fleeting thought in my head And I want to slap myself Why do we automatically think more time is the answer Or more anything When really all I’d like to do Is do one thing well
Last night, after a day of exploring around the Sonoma Coast, I lounged on my sofa, right in the corner, in what is becoming my favorite nook of our new house. Here, the dark comes with crickets — their chirps charge the night, as if the sound generates our power, the light in the bulbsContinue reading “Last night”
When I create, I like restrictions. Magnetic poetry flows because I choose the words. Here, I am blank, pulling from within. * I am not empty; I shape from what’s left. I like facts that push against me. A story I mold with the clay in my hands.
Master a simple story with just a few elements. Don’t try to do too much too quickly. I say all of these things very generally, referring to anything we might undertake in life, but also very specifically, when it comes to writing a certain story.