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My New Righting Group Book

Y’all, I’ve been so busy getting my new book into the hands of folks who can use it, I haven’t stopped long enough to tell you about it. Most of y’all know for 8 years I was part of a weekly writing group of Memphians who had personally experienced homelessness. We wrote; we held public readings; we hosted full-day...

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Today

Today, I met with the two folks I’m co-collaborating with on our Wild Goose Contemplative Writing experience. We talked about contemplative writing, what it was, how on earth we create a meaningful experience in 50 minutes. We laughed. Fully understanding we were in this together, we brainstormed. Our resulting plan is awesome. Perhaps because...

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Wild Poems

My emotions rocklike wavesa victim of forces uncontrolled. My heart singsLord, it’s beautiful.How does that calm survive the chaos? Purple Martins fly,Ripe plums bend branches.Beautiful brick marcheswhere grass grows green.We will all be okay. A jigsaw of cloudsWhat looks forebodingcreates contrast, warning us,“We are alive.” We...

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Re-Potted

I netted the fig tree. I planted five yellow flowering plants and four purple flowering plants. I tore up a decomposing tomato barrel, threw away the pieces, and dispersed the dirt. I did the same for two other rotten containers. I took four tropicals that didn’t come in hanging baskets and re-potted them into hanging baskets. I planted four...

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Watermelon

I cut into the watermelon, and I want to go back so bad. Back to the days when summer was hot but not brutal, when happiness drove me. When I swagged into the kitchen at my grandmother’s house, thumped a watermelon onto the Formica counter, and cracked a sharp knife through the rind. It was the summer after my second year of law school,...

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I’m Back!!!

My goodness, y’all. We talked every day during Lent then…..silence. My contemplative writing, the subject of those 40 posts, has fallen off the same way. Sometimes a marathon depletes you. Then you regain your strength, and I’m back! Here’s some news: The Big Moose Prize hosted by Black Lawrence Press named When We Were...

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New Orleans Magic

Today, Sunday of the first weekend in Jazz Fest when New Orleans magic pulses through the air like a fine purple spray, I saw an eighty-year-old man with hair the same color as his mauve shoes join a band playing in the Bywater in a furniture shop (a handcrafting furniture type of shop, not a gallery floor) to sing his one hit from 1958 and there...

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