If I told you I’m just screwing around this week, I’d be exaggerating. This is exam week after our twelve-week winter term, so there’s lots of grading, as well as chores involving grants, event programming, etc. Liberation from the rigors of my former schedule,… Continue Reading “Errant in the Bewilderness”
One of the first sonnets I wrote, as an undergraduate, contained the lines: “A mouth of purple crocus opens through/ the snow, wild to speak the store beneath. / It carries coin.” I don’t remember the rest, although the poem is probably in a… Continue Reading “A mouth of purple crocus”
Spring’s been happening in fits and starts–blossoms one minute, wind-strewn petals the next. I walk a nearby trail most mornings, and on Tuesday, Woods Creek churned and roared from heavy rains; parts of the path were massive puddles, and the lowest bridge was half-underwater.… Continue Reading “News flash: in April, poet feels moody”
My body and brain tell me it’s December. At work I’ve been teaching, grading, going to meetings, reading files, doing paperwork, conducting interviews; the rest of the time I’ve been making lists, shopping, cleaning, cooking, digging out wool sweaters, and wondering when I’m going… Continue Reading “The spring beauty are starting to bloom”
As usual, I’m tripping over my own sleepy feet into National Poetry Month, knowing I should have a WRITING PLAN but instead feeling indecisive, half-awake. April is when W&L’s winter term ends in a flurry of meetings, receptions, and papers; exam week and spring… Continue Reading “Intention / haplessness”
More sleet and snow in the forecast, ugh, even as here in western Virginia, snowdrops and crocus and even a few daffodils show the shivering woods in bright spring clothes. I feel winter-locked too. Things have been germinating underground that I can’t talk about… Continue Reading “Buried bulb juts up a spear”
All it takes is a wobble of ankle or attention— the other racers fly ahead and I’ll never catch up. This is a stupid way to approach a cherry blossom. With fear, I mean. What if, I ask my spouse, I waste this gift… Continue Reading “I’m sorry I’m abandoning you all”
I make photographs and poems to please myself (and share them to please you).
pages from an unbound book
a poetry blog & online home to the work of José Angel Araguz
book blogger & reviewer
Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry
Art. Disability. Writing.
Place, Poems, Practice
Poetry and what-not
(because compost happens)
The work wants to be made
Writing from both sides of the brain
"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty
Mundane musings from a collector of the quotidian
Writer. Surrealist grrl.