“Whoever our queer ghosts were that night, I leaned into them and whispered to their necks that we’d do better, that we’d feed each other and glimmer. It was all in the lush twinge of that opening, that song that bore us, was in us: hard-ghosted desire, last chances, lifting.”
(We love Dana’s writing, and we love Brevity.)
HOMESCHOOLING MOTHER OF 5, ALL THINGS DOMESTIC, MY CRAZY LIFE
poems, and the poet who poems them
(Somewhat) Daily News from the World of Literary Nonfiction
It's always about writing...
Co-author of Mapping the Valley
Freelance Creative Professional
Writer * Editor * Educator * Weirdo
Lifesaving Poems
Just another WordPress.com site
(poetry and other stuff, but mostly poetry)
Just another WordPress.com site
a roominghouse for the servants of the duende
pea river journal 
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