Gateway Gateway to heaven, Cecropia flits to my doorway, flaps her wings, Morse code from God, life everlasting, she lays her full body against my brass doorknob. Her journey is done, her wings are tattered, she will lay her eggs and disappear. Like all faith, she is ephemeral and falls down from the skies. How did she find me? How did she know I was seeking solace? And she brought a disciple, another Cecropia, much smaller, that lay beside the lit porch … [Read more...]
Solace in So Many Words — new review and TV too
There’s some news about Solace in So Many Words. First, we got a new review on Goodreads. To celebrate its fifth year Weighed Words hosted a giveaway of Solace In So Many Words and sent five copies away to readers across the country. I always hope that such a giveaway will generate a little buzz and this time it did. A reader named Erin Hill received a copy, and in her review of Solace in So Many Words she writes: “I really enjoyed this collection. It's varied in the … [Read more...]
Glimpse of solace: Looking down
Today I came out of the library to find there was a cloudburst; one gray cloud in a blue sky sprinkled down. Am I crazy to notice this pattern of the raindrops on pavement? I don't know, but I thought it was kind of cool. … [Read more...]
Glimpse of solace: Kerry James Marshall at MCA
Tuesday I had the most pleasant afternoon, spending it on the fourth floor of the Museum of Contemporary Art, taking in the art of Kerry James Marshall. The “Mastry” exhibit goes to September 25. I watched the short video of Kerry James Marshall. He spoke about the Old Masters, how he studied them. He couldn't help but notice how the Black Experience was absent (invisible) in these works. He also said something to the effect that his artwork was not simply for … [Read more...]
Guest post: Laura Rodley “Luna”
Luna Sure sign of summer, the pale translucence of the luna’s green wings, the green of emerging blades of grass, or new rose leaves. How such delicacy battles her way through thunderstorms, clouds, the dust of a dry summer, how her path is unerring; she returns every time, not herself, but a replica, someone born from her eggs. In April, too early for lunas, one appeared anyway, flapping at the back porch window Let me in. Walking outside, I bathed in her … [Read more...]
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