A. Anupama
If suns grew in a field together, would they get along? If stars fell into fields, would we memorialize them? If the crescent moon mowed the field, what kind of hay would that make? Poems are made of heat, light, consciousness. On a hot day in August like this, maybe poems get lost. Maybe in…
I pulled over while driving home to take this photo of sunflowers yesterday morning. A moment like that gives joy because one pauses for beauty. Just now, as I sit here in my porch-office, a couple of fawns charged ahead of their mother into the back garden’s open glen between maple trees. Now they have…
They start their schooldays sitting on the cafeteria floor, singing with their friends and music teacher. "This Little Light of Mine" ---all the verses to these traditional songs up on the projector screen. Poetry workshop is as sweet and rigorous---join me for the upcoming 6-week class at RoCA. Click on the flyer below for details,…
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