This past Monday, I participated in a public protest against efforts by a local group to ban more than 200 “inappropriate” books from the libraries in our school district. (Think Native Son by Richard Wright. Beloved by Toni Morrison. To…
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What follows isn’t a poem. It’s a playful inventory of basic intentions that guide my creative work—indeed, my daily living. It sets forth how I aspire to conduct myself as a “maker” and as a…
What follows is a “found poem.” To create it, I took lines from a story I’d read this week on Braided Way and rearranged them into a poem, leaving the words mostly verbatim. I want to thank…
FISHING FOR WORDS for creatives who write You stand on the edge of a shallow lake, casting your line, waiting for bites— some days, not a nibble….
THE SECRET OF BIRDS Phyllis Cole-Dai Outside the window, an hour before dawn, when night weighs heaviest on the neck of the world, one bird with pluck begins to sing I’m here I’m here I’m…
NAMES WILL CARRY Phyllis Cole-Dai for Wanda and Tom I carry your names into the mountains you loved, though mountains have no need of names— they know each pilgrim that passes through by scent…
On this Mother’s Day in the US, you may be celebrating a special someone in your life who has “mothered” you or whom you yourself have had the privilege of “mothering.” My young chap, Nathan,…
Yeah, yeah, I know. Mother’s Day in the US isn’t until next week. But when I began this poem, I didn’t know it was going to be about mothers. Or about tree rings. That’s the beauty of…
You ever gone through a long stretch where major responsibilities were pulling you in several directions at once? When all you could do was breathe and keep going, trusting that you’d get to the end of it?
Well, I’m happy to say, I’m just about to emerge from such a stretch. Whew.
This week I plopped down on the piano bench to muse with my fingers on the keyboard about what to write for today’s Staying Power. One song led to another, and eventually I came to “What…
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