Performance of a Lifetime

Dr. Moran tapped his heavy silver pen against a sheaf of test results. “Well,” he said, “I’ve found the problem.”

I’d arrived enervated in his office a few weeks ago, drifting through the door in a fog of weakness and fatigue. Headaches hammered me all day. I was 23 years old and my bones ached. I couldn’t feel my feet. My guts felt oily and torqued. Once a month or so I slipped into a hot, dizzy spell that made the floor slant and my eyes blur. None of this was new.

Want to read the rest? Click here or, better yet, go to your local bookstore and buy the summer issue of Bitch magazine.

Buy a few copies, actually. It's a good one.


One New Poem

Lauren Treece via Flickr // CC BY-ND 2.0

to the mice inside the walls

to us out here
the scrabbling bustle
of your busyness
sounds the same.

little neighbors, have you noticed
the volume
in these rooms

an uptick 
in the number of tissues
in the bedroom’s
wicker wastebasket?

are we leaving 
more crumbs
of pie & pizza
on the kitchen floor,
more herbal tea boxes
and wine bottles
in the recycling bin?

maybe this time 
is only as strange 
as any other
for you,
who have never before
seen january—
for you,
who will never see 
a november


One Poem in Qu

"Luncheon of the Boating Party" by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

I went on some pretty bad dates last year. The worst one turned into a poem.

(I recommend taking a very close look at the action in the upper-right corner of the Renoir above.)

"Blind Date, Phillips Collection" is out now in Qu Literary Magazine


Goodbye, James.

"Jellyfish on a Stick," by James C. Christensen

James C. Christensen (1942 - 2017) was an exuberant collaborator, a generous teacher, and a friend. The world is a stranger and more beautiful place because he was in it.



(Woman Poet, ???? - ????)

I have turned
to pages xi - xii
in 100
different volumes
only to find
the same 6

is known


One Poem at Bourgeon

photo: Abby Horowitz

Every family has stories they tell again and again. These stories change each time in the telling, depending on who is telling them, what they happen to remember, the details they select, and what they want you to believe.

In other words, they're a lot like poems.

My version of "Kitchen Fire" is up today at Bourgeon.


Go, Baby, Go

In late 2014 I attended a meeting at the Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute of Child Health and Human Development. I was there to take notes, and was dutifully transcribing the speaker's comments on various programs the Institute had funded. My mind had just begun to wander when I heard her say, "...and robotic cars for babies."

That got my attention. I wrote down everything she said and looked it up as soon as I got home. The robotic cars in question were products of the pediatric physical therapy lab at the University of Delaware. In the time since receiving their grant, I learned, researchers in the lab had gone beyond robotic baby cars. They'd started a movement. 

Just under two years later, I'm very happy to share my story on the GoBabyGo! program, which was published this week on the Popular Mechanics website:

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