I hate snot. Thick wet gray green globs at the edge of, or protruding from, a nose will make me gag or heave far before poop or blood or bad beans in the fridge. If there is a tongue inching toward said globs, or making contact, I will, without a doubt, lose my groceries. Granted,... Continue Reading →
Years ago when we lived in Las Cruces, New Mexico, in a wonderful little adobe house with two rosebushes, a pomegranate tree, and an apricot tree that hung over the neighbor's fence into our yard (and with fruit, location is ownership, right?), many of the neighbors had suns hanging on the porches or on the... Continue Reading →
I had a boss once who, when I knocked on her door to wish her well on her vacation, looked up, and said, "Anne Marie, unless you are dying, I do not have time for you." Well, what else could I do after that but write a poem? So I did. Unless You're Dying* for... Continue Reading →
I believe it is a woman thing. Choking. We choke up. We choke when we laugh too hard. Or cry. We choke on our food. Or I do. Laughing and eating has led to food or drink flying straight across the table from my mouth to the face of my date. I remember this happening... Continue Reading →
It's rare here on the mountain. Fog. Not like Detroit. So many foggy days, foggy walks to school. Foggy drives. In 1979 my best friend Bridget and I drove in a fog so dense and large and lasted so long that we came to know it, and we named it; Fred.We were on a road... Continue Reading →
With the movie Barbie making changes in people's minds, their understanding of feminism/sexism/racism etc., and their understanding of who can make great movies (Congrats, Greta Gerwig), I thought I'd pull out a piece posted seven years ago, dust it off, and post it again. Here's to Barbie! Some 20 years ago when it first showed... Continue Reading →
I have journaled, kept a diary, put the pen to my brain, so to speak, since I was five years old. And I have that diary, still. My favorite entry being one where I expressed how seriously furious I was at my brother Bernie. It's like peeing. Sorry, but it was the first metaphor that... Continue Reading →
Near Misses, and Someday Posts I wasn't hurt in Detroit Race Riots of '67 even when we broke curfew . . . to have a happy parade I was not lost in the blizzard of '65 although I was lost to love in the blizzard of '78 No brakes, no fear. Bernie saved us in... Continue Reading →
The first winter storm rolled in yesterday. It rained all evening, and into the night. Storms like this warm the air a bit, and I slept with my window open, listening to the rain all night long. My high desert mountain life takes me, every day, away from the wet lake life I lived in... Continue Reading →
Has the world always been in overfire? Like my wood stove after I stoke it with well-seasoned cedar and pine, hefty logs on top of crisp sheaths of aspen kindling. I pile those atop a foundation of twigs that I obsessively collect from my yard throughout the year. The girls hated when I shouted 'pine... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 