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Ephemerals pt. 4 (awe and otters)
This is the last entry in my “ephemerals” journaling, since early spring is fading in Virginia–where I’ve returned after the Alaska trip and a terrific residency at Storyknife. Quick note toward the future: I’m teaching a three-hour workshop, “Poetry from the Underworld,” via Poet Camp on June 28th, and registration is now open. I promise…
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Ephemerals pt. 2 (spirals, drafts, wildflowers)
I’m heading to Alaska shortly. During my residency, blogging and social media will be low priority, but my Storyknife cohort will give a virtual reading on April 24th, 6 pm Alaska Time–I’m planning to share new work with you, if you can make it. Look at the Storyknife website closer to the date for a…
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Spring ephemerals
March 23, 2026 This morning I took my first solitary ramble of the new season in the woods behind campus, a favorite walk, especially in spring. The ridges folding steeply down to the Maury River are full of spring wildflowers: this early I found lots of twinleaf and spring beauties (a.k.a. miner’s lettuce, good to…
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Square coats: AWP & Shenandoah
Performances ahead: Now filing out of the auditorium for a while: AWP and Shenandoah. A friend of mine, describing a thorny family situation amid the hubbub of AWP’s Book Fair, tried to say, “I shouldn’t use scare quotes.” The phrase came out “square coats.” Square old me, standing there in my favorite velvet blazer–I hadn’t…
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Arthur Sze’s mushrooms
I planned to get my third novel started this January, and I have. I wasn’t far in, though, before my brain started playing hooky. Psst, Lesley, I have a poem idea for you. Poetry always seems to prefer a sidewise approach, when I’m looking the other way. There’s nothing to do but obey. Arthur Sze’s…
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At the lip of the cave
It may be hibernation season, but I can feel the literary world heating up again–professors building syllabi, organizational emails flying. I’m participating in some of that planning energy toward two local events in the next month: “Writing from the Underworld” at Rockbridge Regional Library branch three blocks from me (1/29, 5:30-7:00, a short reading followed…
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The Great Pink Sea Snail rides on
During my ridiculously lucky 3-night residency in Miami last week–praise to SWWIM and the Betsy Writer’s Room!–I worked on a multipart poem I started in October. The sequence begins by conjuring a tiny land snail. A brainstorm occurred to me on the sand, because in South Beach you’re basically obligated to do some of your…
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Stars, luck, and revelations
“The Instagram astrologers says big positive changes are coming for me this week!” I yelled from my reading chair to my spouse at his laptop, although the cats seemed interested, too. He said something like “that’s nice, honey,” or maybe just a neutral “mmm” because he was concentrating on the hundredth book of comics scholarship…
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Instead of patriotism, fungus
I’m not feeling the red-white-and-blue this year, so I hereby give you an image of the very pink Barbie pagoda mushroom–Podoserpula miranda–from New Caledonia, image drawn from The Global Fungal Red List. You’re welcome. I found stories about its discovery when I was reminding myself of the names of mushroom morphologies for a novel I’ve…
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Rustle like old women’s laughter
This week, in my “Modern Poetry’s Media” course, I told my undergrads about poet Helene Johnson‘s success during the Harlem Renaissance, subsequent disappearance from the literary scene, and rediscovery late in the 20th century. “Rediscovery” is a funny term, of course–she knew where she was the whole time, although other poets and the critics weren’t…