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Travel for Agoraphobics: Always Coming, Always Going
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Friday, November 14, 2014. Always Coming, Always Going. ALWAYS COMING, ALWAYS GOING. Seattle, 8:00 am, any summer morning. The aromas of bacon and dark. Roast power my walk along. Avenue, where everyone waits. For the bus with her head down, device. In one hand, tall Thermos cup. In the other. Me, I can’t stop. Looking up, unrooted by the drone. Of low-hanging jets, one after another. At this hour of day, these steel pterodactyls. Hovering against a translucent. Sky, and I can’t stop wondering.
travelforagoraphobics.blogspot.com
Travel for Agoraphobics: April 2014
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Tuesday, April 29, 2014. We Have Always Known Grief. As I work my way into a new fiction project, I inevitably find myself remembering moments of childhood - our suburban home and its surrounds, my incongruous family. Here is a poem that arrived out of those recent recollections. We Have Always Known Grief. There were always the fireflies, rising. Out of the grass at dusk, the call of crickets. At summer’s end when the fat milk pods begged. To be split and their seeds to float like. Questions on the wind.
travelforagoraphobics.blogspot.com
Travel for Agoraphobics: I think I could turn, and live with the animals
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Thursday, May 21, 2015. I think I could turn, and live with the animals. As my far more sanguine husband has often observed, we are not the first generation to observe the madness in our culture. Thinking about thought and form today (and also the courage to show oneself fully on the page), I naturally went to Walt Whitman, a poet I've not seriously looked at since college. When I came to the passage below in Leaves of Grass. I think I could turn, and live with the animals,. For their sins,. Duty to God,.
travelforagoraphobics.blogspot.com
Travel for Agoraphobics: A Little Light Reading
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Tuesday, November 18, 2014. A Little Light Reading. Thriller and the romance novel serve as antidotes to the imagination rather than stimulants to it. For this reason. Sonnets to Orpheus making it worse. Here are a few "light" reads from my recent travels;. This is Where I Leave You. Labels: c.c. humphreys. The art of subtext. This is where I leave you. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. The Skeeter Daddle Diaries. Three Guys One Book. UW Creative Writing Program.
travelforagoraphobics.blogspot.com
Travel for Agoraphobics: May 2014
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Thursday, May 8, 2014. It was great then, this morning, to see Laura Miller's thoughtful read. At the end Miller gives shout outs to Helen Fielding and Jennifer Crusie as chick lit authors who make for enjoyable reading. I would add Hester Browne and Sarah Mason. And then there is Diana Gabaldon, who seems to have created a genre all of her own that encompasses adventure, historical, romance and a touch of science fiction. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. The Skeeter Daddle Diaries.
travelforagoraphobics.blogspot.com
Travel for Agoraphobics: February 2014
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Wednesday, February 26, 2014. I like to get under a blanket and read something long and plot-driven over the holidays, and this year I chose Veronica Roth's phenom (in book sales, anyway). YA trilogy , Divergent. Makes any sense at all. About the work. I wonder what might have become of this series if the author had insisted upon doing that. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. The Skeeter Daddle Diaries. Three Guys One Book. UW Creative Writing Program.
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OUR FRIENDS WHO MAY OR MAY NOT VOUCH FOR US | SOUTH END STRING BAND
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SOUTH END STRING BAND. Just another WordPress.com weblog. OUR FRIENDS WHO MAY OR MAY NOT VOUCH FOR US. Skeeter’s kind of the spiritual advisor to the band. Or so. Thinks… He runs the Daddle Distillery back in the nettle hollows behind the South End Diner. Pretty good nettle mash. Which is really the reason we keep him around. This is a fine little publication that comes out every 2 weeks filled with everything that’s happening on the South End and beyond. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. THE BAND’S WHIR...
travelforagoraphobics.blogspot.com
Travel for Agoraphobics: March 2015
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Thursday, March 19, 2015. Collection. It captures in many ways the mood of the past months. But why not be this lake instead,. Icy blue, and the little white curls. Of waves, its absolute refusal. Why not be a thing? Why not be a place. You'd go to get away. From your mother's frontal lobe "eroding". As the faxed medical report has it? Why not a lovely blue-turning-green. And why not the removal of all feeling? Maybe she'd rather you'd be a lake,. A way to lie still in the world,. A place to rest.
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Shannon Kirby Art » Article » Door Handles
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Ceramic Burl Slab Sconce. All content and images 2016, Shannon Kirby. Original theme: the undersigned.
