Fleetwood’s Golden Shovel

“and the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score/and I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before” – Fleetwood Mac, Songbird – You were carrying groceries and Asking about a news story…

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poetry: the drive home

the drive home highway 19 changed its speed limit last month and finally caught up with the rest of the county. you always did 65 anyway, so it hardly matters. the big steer thirty feet above the…

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poetry: 2 weeks notice

This poem is pretty self-explanatory and was written during a time last fall where I felt trapped and couldn’t write (or think) about anything else. One of the craft tendencies I have in my work is to…

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poetry: sunday

Lines scribbled on a Sunday and reformed into Monday’s poem for class. sunday bring your to-go cups and farmers market flowers. the cold wine from the sink. give remembrance to your 2am songs, your light beer cheers…

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New Year, More Writing!

It’s been a while. I haven’t felt like anything I have to say has crystallized and I’ve been so busy in the “growing” phase of life that I felt like I couldn’t speak to it yet. Everything…

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Monday Mornings + Mary Oliver

Musings from this spring. Sage and peonies, Monday mornings are yours. The bakery doors locked, the Insta-mommies running errands and too busy to post. An alarm that finally doesn’t need setting. You trim flowers in the sink…

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5:47 in North Beach

The semester has begun, and I’m already in love with my Groundings in Creative Nonfiction class. The reading list is a marvel within itself. A class of incredible writers to surround myself with doesn’t hurt, either. Our…

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“The thought was thrilling and terrifying. They could do this foolish thing. And if so, then what? What could they not do?”

Brit Bennett

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