- Heart of the Heart of the Country
- February 01
- Book editor, parent, MFA in poetry from a land far, far, away--and a long, long time ago . . .
I'm not a psychologist, but I play one on TV.
MY RECENT POSTS
- Blogging Again on OS? Open
February 22, 2013 09:42AM
- Mom Always Liked You Best
September 19, 2011 04:53PM
- First Blog, Fernsy OC
August 08, 2011 01:58PM
- Dreaming of Tornadoes?
April 21, 2011 01:46PM
- Not Dead Yet
March 07, 2011 04:06PM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “This is most excellent.
Missing you, HB”
- “Single payer system,
April 08, 2013 11:15AM
- “A parallel situation
here . . . I'm getting a
week. I r…”
March 06, 2013 09:35AM
- “You're onto something
when you suggest liability
think. A very timely
February 28, 2013 09:41AM
- “In the secret language
of psychoanalysis, this
February 28, 2013 09:31AM
Hells Bells's Links
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Not so long ago, I read Ben Sen's eloquent post on blogging again on Open Salon. He gave us a capsule overview of his time here, and I wound up thinking about my own.
I've been lurking here lately, commenting and rating occasionally--just as I'd done before I first pushed the publish button… Read full post »
MY BROTHER AND I, ages 8 and 11, were shocked when our parents sat us down in the living room to let us know we had an older half-sister. And what's more, that she would be coming to visit us in our suburban tri-level home, smack dab in the middle… Read full post »
How I Became a Poet
Originally posted February 26, 2009
Thanks in advance for reading. Extra points if you can tell
who the Great Poet is.
The auditorium on the cold campus was full, but the Great Poet made us wait. When he finally made his entrance, he was wearing a black… Read full post »
Outside my bedroom window, someone whispers, laughs.
The moon, slant-shadowed, skims across the floor.
Waking, I reach the telephone, before it is a dream.
Next morning, a man traces tracks on his open palm
to show the places that were leveled.
Here, across the h… Read full post »
Summer, early morning, grass still wet
and webbed by spiders, I painted a house,
helping my brother lift the wooden ladder
off the truck, spill cool streams into cans.
White paint went on approximate and pure,
and as heat lines struggled off the truck,
the trees, galvanized aluminum g
God's Well, the sign along the highway says,
and in these times I'm glad to hear it.
But what if the sign is a lie, put up
by someone only hopeful, merely whistling
in the dark? Or worse, if it directs us,
sign by larger sign--10 Miles to God's… Read full post »
Here's a real empty nest syndrome move: I got a dog. Kids are pretty much out of the house, and I just really, really needed to have something to take care of and be responsible for.
Okay, I already have two cats, but they're CATS.
Rose is a 3-year-old rescue… Read full post »
Jane's expenses are next to nothing--she lives in a one-room apartment on the college campus--but even so, I know she’ll run out of money by the middle of next month, and I wonder what will happen then. Her father and I divorced many years/… Read full post »
"crow," by my daughter
I feel I should apologize to the receptionist, get up from my chair in the waiting room and say, “I’m sorry for the way she spoke to you. She’s bipolar. " Unmedicated bipolar, I think to myself.
She’s gone off on the receptionist… Read full post »
Traveling west to east or east to west,
it doesn't matter, I might have guessed
this recollection of opposite travel,
row upon row of trees that unravel
in the same dull direction as road.
What to think of--nothing. I suppose
the going matters, not the way to go.
The whis… Read full post »
After rain, the windows silver--
sunset draws couples out to sit in chairs
on porches, to watch the road curving
before their houses
like a long knife.
A man waves to me from the flower beds
that edge his lawn--zinnias, marigolds.
What was it that he recognized,
or… Read full post »
Sometimes you take a picture that just says it all . . . that's rare in my case, so I have to share this one.
This is Otis, my friend Randy's dog--a boxer, and therefore a goofball by nature. Boxers have their problems. They they don't live very long, basically… Read full post »
he's cute, but he's a rat
It's that time of year again. The time squirrels become so excited and confused by their nut gathering and burying and digging up and re-burying that they run out into the street, double back to the sidewalk, and then change their tiny minds a… Read full post »
Sitting across from him in the pickup,
she realized she was tired of him.
She decided he was stupid, really,
his grip on the gearshift, cruel.
Day after day they fought,
and afterwards he drove the back roads
with his shotgun, watching the clouds roll in in
the… Read full post »
I sew. Or rather, I sewed. It's past tense these days because it's been taking all my energy to get my pants on the right way around in the morning and arrive at work on time.
When I was a teenager, all the girls sewed . . . it's… Read full post »
After you've washed and conditioned your hair with Blago ("It's bleepin' golden"), you can download your very own Blagojevich ringtones.
On the "Off the Clock" blog at the Springfield Journal-Register, Brian Mackey has posted MP3 versions of the best of Rod Bl/… Read full post »
A woman in the road wails, "Help
She carries a bundle of straw, has carried it far
without so much as a sip of water or a crust.
From the woods, Fox hears her
"Tie up half the bundle with your rope.
I'm a fast runner and can carry it in… Read full post »
Impeached Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich's trial begins today in Chicago. The Chicago Tribune has all the news and scandal you could possibly want.
In case you missed it when it first came out, some opportunistic genius… Read full post »
IF YOU PLAY the video at the end of this post, you'll see Charles Collingwood interviewing the psychologist Harry Harlow for CBS. Harlow ran the primate lab at the University of Wisconsin in the 50s and 60s and conducted the famous wire monkey/terry-cloth mother monkey study we&… Read full post »
Let’s call her Jane. So my daughter Jane ripped the book in half. She said, “I’m not reading that book. And now you can’t even return it.”
This is too bad, because the book, Facing Bipolar: The Young Adult’s Guide to Dealing with Bipolar Disorder, is/… Read full post »
My mother walks
ahead of me--
I walk behind,
She points things out:
the pinkish buds
of the bay laurel,
worn smooth and flat,
a deer has left
of its track.
Her fingers push
dry leaves away,
and fiddleheads… Read full post »
Away from camp, you bend beside the lake,
touch glassy bubbles, water rushing in circles
so cold they want to keep your hand. Alone,
you watch the sun rise in the glacial cirque, moon
white, still up in the west, steep rock
face all around. You stop to catch… Read full post »
I never knew what caused the raging fire--
Only, whoever started it was cloaked
By something more than blankness, like the kiss
Of gasoline on wood, on flesh, the spit
Of tiny, licking flame, thrust high then far.
Dangle a challenge to write a poem involving five words, and a s… Read full post »
So, here you are. You’re on your own. You’re elated to be free, but you feel anxious, too. You do so many things alone. You’ll do many more things that way, and for a long time the/… Read full post »