Before I knew that any journey arrives
at its impulse, all the spinning, the tally of miles
becoming, finally, the broken and endless
litany of a man on a corner, reaching
empty-handed and calling for coins
he tucks away like secrets, little passages
not meant to be seen or heard beyond this room.
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
(The poetry blog of Grant Clauser)
Just another WordPress.com site
a roominghouse for the servants of the duende
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