Happy Valentine’s Day But Did You Notice We’re All in Hell?, Lesley Wheeler’s Newest Book Mycocosmic, the Full Snow Moon

Glenn and me on Valentine’s Day

Happy Valentine’s Day (But Did You Notice We’re All in Hell?)

Has it been Valentine’s Day already? I have to admit I was not feeling very romantic this particular Valentine’s Day, what with the world burning down all around us, and how we must live not only with it, but act against it.

I posted this poem on Valentine’s Day, originally published in Poets and Artists Magazine and part of my new manuscript. I hope you enjoy it.

Lesley Wheeler’s New Book, Mycocosmic, from Tupelo Press

A book that you should own immediately—I promise, it will make you feel better, even as it tears itself apart—is Lesley Wheeler’s Mycocosmic, which explores the family, the world, and the body in metaphors of mushroom, is her most direct and moving piece yet. I loved her fiction, Unbecoming, and I think this book will actually finally get her into the light where she belongs. Some of the poems, like “Sex Talk” and “Smart” (the ultimate poem for all smart girls, I mean it should be an anthem.)

Mycocosmic with mushrooms

Just a fragment from “Map Projections:”

When my father died,
I said to my sister
I’m sorry I let
him do that to you.

My sister said: No,
I wasn’t even on his radar. 
He didn’t think I 
was worth it.
He aimed for you. 

The whole book, like the mycological systems it describes, has an underpoem that runs underneath the individual poems. It’s such a unique and moving book, whimsical and witty. It’s ecological in a way that makes you believe again in the superpowers of nature and feminist in a way that makes you examine your own behaviors and shames. It’s hard to explain, but you should get yourself a copy. Lesley is the kind of writer that you must respect, one whose work ethic puts others to shame, and the kind of friend who tells you that you can get through anything. Not just a great writer, but an exemplary kind of human.

Full Snow Moon

An ominous full snow moon

Meanwhile, the bath renovation drags on and on, costing more and more money, and keeping me unsettled and unhomed while waiting for the dust and toxins to abate. I am a creature of routine—maybe that is more because of my chronic illness and disability than my actual personality, which I might describe as more adventurous and outgoing. But right now, I’m hardly able to get any work done, although I have written three poems in the last week and had a poetry acceptance at a new journal that I think is very promising. My plans for Ireland and France aren’t exactly on the back burner, but I’m taking my time with research.

In my own neighborhood, I’m looking forward to a new reading series at J. Bookwalter’s winery, maybe widening my circle of friends in a time when it seems enemies and paranoia are everywhere. It pays to be kind, always, but you know, smart and kind. Wise as serpents, as the prophet said, innocent as doves.

Valentine’s picture in which I look like I might hit someone with a lot of tulips

In case you’re not already doing this, update your driver’s license, your passport, get a passport if you don’t have one, keep a copy of your passport (card sized) in your wallet. Keep your papers in a safe at home—your birth certificate, your social security card. Show your papers is a new American pastime for the new Nazi regime. Yes, urge your representatives to actively work against prejudice, sexism, destruction of American constitutional rights, the environment, protections from corporate corruption. But also, protect yourself. As the seventies song For What It’s Worth tells us…well, just listen to the song. I have had bad dreams almost every night since Trump’s re-election, some about the destruction of women’s rights, some about the destruction of the American economy, some about the extreme isolationism. Oh, and bird flu. Anyone who tells you it’s not that bad is not paying enough attention.  Cassandra is rarely listened to, but remember, she was always right.

A grim time, indeed, my friends, but don’t lose hope. Joy and hope can radiate a little light, and who knows who needs that light right now?

Snow Snow Snow, and Part II of a Desert Residency in a Grim Time Plus Writing Insecurity

Snow in Woodinville

Snow Snow Snow (Plus Demo Updates and Thoughts of Writing Insecurity)

We have been socked in with snow and cold, while the house is being demo’d and we’re a bit discombobulated, shuttling here and there while we can’t stay in our home while some of the work is done. I’ve also been sick (tested for covid, flu, and strep, all negative) and heard the details of the changes to the NEA grant requirements and the destruction of the government at the hands of Trump/Elon. I have been reading about writers writing under truly terrible governments – the Nazis, terrible Roman emperors etc – and studying exactly how they tried to write about their lives and their times. Ovid, of course, and Catallus, but also existenialist poets from France. I wrote quite a bit about Ovid in my first book, Becoming the Villainess because at that time I felt the echoes of the violence and helplessness in my own life. I had no idea what was ahead for my country. I had so much optimism, then, that things would get better for women. Unfortunately, that has not been the case. Like this camellia in my yard that bloomed before our week of snow, I had unreasonable optimism, it seems.

Glenn and I with mural at Desert Rat residency

Part II of a Desert Writing Residency in a Grim Time (and Writing Insecurity)

See how warm and sunny we look! Did we see the snow coming in our weeks ahead? The residency helped me clear my head for a bit about some things that have been bothering me in the writing world, but my writing insecurities have been brought up again. A friend (a really good writer) told me that last year she had no acceptances, only rejections. I told her my last year had not been much better. I read through some of my earlier work (a friend was asking about a previous book) and I felt that my earlier work was better than what I’m writing now. Maybe just different, but it felt like the strength, energy, and optimism in the poetry (and in my own body) has waned. I am feeling less and less wanted in the writing world, like my voice is no longer important or unique or anything. Is this common after a rough year of rejections and not many encouragements?

Westerm Bluebird

I was very lucky to have this five days in the desert, the sunshine and higher than freezing temperatures, and to catch up with Jeff Walt, the wonderful poet and person responsible for the Desert Rat Residency. I was lucky to see bluebirds and hummingbirds, finches and sparrows. No roadrunners, but ospreys, pelicans, and other sea birds. I tried to focus on this new manuscript, but my discouragement is strong – and the feeling that the manuscript is as finished as it’s going to get is strong as well.

I am also, I have mentioned on this blog, feeling, well, older, less listened-to, as louder influences take over social media and the poetry world, after many years of dues-paying and free labor, maybe a tiny bit more bitter than I should. If I want to do good in the writing world, I need to free myself from that. And I want to do some good. It might be the only thing I can do in the time, with this particularly oppressive government, that might last longer than a bad presidency. After all, we are still reading Ovid, but few people remember Emperor Augustus with much affection. Writers making art can last longer than a government that oppresses. We can make a difference. I have to keep believing this. My friend Jeff is making a difference by offering a place for writers (even disabled ones!) to write. My friend who received a year of rejection will surely publish her work to great acclaim, because it is funny and smart and deserved attention. My younger writer friends deserve support and encouragement. Perhaps this is how we create our sunshine in the middle of snow, in a Narnia where it is always winter and never Christmas.

Hummingbird with disco ball

I think about writers who lived in far harsher environments than I do, with far less encouragement. I owe it to them to keep going. Many women writers I admire did not live to be my age, and so I shouldn’t just take it as an impediment, but perhaps an opportunity to write from the perspective of an over-fifty woman. I have survived this long for a reason, when some of my friends have not. I am still here, for now, writing on a blog I’m not sure anyone reads in a time where writing at all seems perilous, even foolish. I remember Sappho’s poetry fragments being pulled recently from a trash pile, poems that have survived across the years, against the odds. Let’s be this hummingbird with a disco ball – unexpected, maybe unasked for, but extraordinary. Oh, I should also say I finally got the stickers for my Washington State Book Award finalist – and here’s a picture. Wishing you all a week filled with unexpected wonders.

A Much-Needed Residency in the Desert in a Time of Sorrow and Strife Part 1

A Much-Needed

Me at the Desert Rat Residency

Residency in the Desert in a Time of Sorrow and Strife Part I

This last week, between a week of injuries, stress, and loss (besides the news, I lost an aunt, my father’s older sister) I was scheduled to go to the Desert Rat Residency in Palm Desert. This residency is special for several reasons: it is disability-friendly, it allows you to bring a partner with you, it has a half kitchen and a garden and swimming pool. And it is run by the fabulous poet Jeff Walt. I returned to sideways hail and snow in Seattle, so it was very beneficial to have five days in the Palm Desert with sunshine, birdsong and time to devote to reading, writing, and editing my manuscript-in-progress.

We spent most of the first day in Palm Springs, stopping at the Shag gallery and having dinner at a steakhouse playing old fashioned Palm Springs classic tunes. All the people were super friendly, despite worries about their families and friends over the mountains in LA. (Smoke was still visible from the plane once we rose over the mountains.) After the stress of getting to the airport and getting through security and all the attendant stress, (they left off our TSA pre-check on the boarding pass, the rental car agency didn’t have the car we reserved) – but I felt better the second I stepped into the gallery, and even better after a steak (Glenn got a wedge salad – so healthy – and a mezcal cocktail. But I’m the one with anemia, lol)

Once we arrived at the residency, we unpacked and started to try to relax. The night air was warm enough to walk outside and look at the planets above the palm trees. I set about working on my manuscript-in-progress, reorganizing, editing poems, putting in new poems and editing out older ones. Every time we stopped into town, the people were so friendly and upbeat, such a difference from the gloomy and let’s face it, somewhat sullen Pacific Northwest crowd. I tried a Dole whip for the first time at Lappert’s (hole in the wall with good date shakes, ice cream, sorbet, and of course, two Dole whip machines.) It was a little cold for the pool this time out, but it was still warmer than Seattle. Lots of Costa’s hummingbirds, a v of white pelicans overhead, mockingbirds and Western bluebirds. Besides being a lovely place to write, it’s a bird watching paradise. Below I am in the art hallway (custom art for each residency), pictured with the famous Kim Addonizio tote (link here,) Costa’s hummingbird with outdoor disco ball, and Glenn and I at a garden store nearby.

Me with pop art and Vinyl collection

I could tell you about the vinyl colletion or the fancy cocktail bar, but I have to continue this blog post another day, with pictures of the gorgeous pool and new mural and garden, and why this retreat was deeply necessary, as I am in the middle of dismantling and storing my bathroom as renovation demolition (the long awaited accessible bathroom project) starts tomorrow morning. I have not caught up on news or social media, or even laundry or unpacking. It is supposed to snow almost every day for a week. I have a stack of books to read, a goal of doing a couple of submissions and spending more time on the new-and-improved version of the manuscript, and thinking about whether or not to try to go to AWP (expenses, timing, health, and more concerns there.) Although it was lovely to be away from home, my cats were very happy to have us back. I’ll report back here soon…

A Wonderful Reading at J. Bookwalter’s, New Glasses, Changes Coming and Looking to the Future

New Glasses and a Wonderful Reading at J Bookwalter’s New Reading Series

This has been a busy week: I got a crown on one of my front teeth (sorely needed), tore my rotator cuff (a first for me), got new glasses, and did my first live in-person reading in a very long time with three other lovely poets at the brand new reading series at J. Bookwalter’s Winery (fourth Thursday every month, includes features and an open mic, plus wine!)

The reading featured Erika Wright, Catherine Broadwall, Michelle Schaefer, and me, with John Campos as MC and a very civilized open mic at the end. There must have been fifty people in the audience, and I didn’t know many of them, but did get a see a few familiar faces, and met a lot of new ones. It seems there is, after all, an interest in poetry in Woodinville! Catherine, who has two books already, and I both sold multiple copies of our books (which seems miraculous these days), and the energy in the room (as you will be able to tell in the video) was just joyful and energetic. It was such a relief after the relentless bad news—I’ve been trying to avoid it, but it is difficult to avoid it all—to have a moment like this of happiness and wine and friendship and, um, dare I say community?

And if you want to watch my part of the reading, in which I tried something new: seven poems (from six books and one still-in-progress manuscript). At J. Bookwalter’s debut new reading series in Woodinville:

And here are a few pics from the reading, and me modeling new glasses:

Changes are Coming

You know how sometimes you get this feeling that whether you embrace it or not, changes are coming? I think we’re in that era. Not just the country, but the economy facing disaster under Trump’s terrible policies (like the tariffs, which will make all goods more expensive in the short term, perhaps even causing boycotts of American goods in the long term), facing a possible new pandemic (bird flu) under Trump’s terrible policies (like stopping funding to the NIH and removing America from the WHO), climate craziness, worries about my aging parents in a leaky three story house, and smaller things, worrying about my own body and house remodeling for accessibility, and trying to figure out the writing life and my place in the universe.

I think my goal of being more adventurous which I talked about in earlier blog posts was really my attempt to be on top of the increasing stormy swells I can see coming. This seems like a good time to improve your agility at life: building relationships, working on your physical and mental health, getting finances and home things in order. There are things you cannot control, but if the ability to see the storm coming is worth anything, it’s making sure you and your loved ones are as prepared as possible. If that ache in your knee can predict the weather, perhaps it can propel us forward into steps to make yourself as disaster-proof as we can be—though of course, disaster preparedness—or, trying to predict the monster of the week when you live on a Hellmouth—can feel futile. Our best assets are the ability to adapt to change—I did write a book called Field Guide to the End of the World, after all—keep your passports current, keep a go-bag handy, keep your friends close, try to forget “comfort” as a priority and focus on “survival skills” instead.

I am going to a writing retreat soon, so I’ll be off social media for a bit. Wish me good luck working. The new year has me off to a bit of a shaky start – with unexpected glimpses of kindness, joy, and kindredness. I need to be able to see a better future to finish this book. It takes a bit of looking, sometimes, to envision beyond the chaos of the moment.

Cold Wolf Moon, Changing Times with Fires and Social Media, Taking Better Care of Body and Mind in the New Year

Contemplating Changes and Changing Times with Fire and Social Media under a Cold Wolf Moon

Cold Wolf Moon

The full Wolf Moon was visible because of the uncanny cold clear weather we’ve been having here in the Pacific Northwest. We’ve been watching the LA fires with so much sadness, because I spent part of my childhood in LA and have many good memories of places there as an adult that have disappeared. Pasadena’s Altadena neighborhood was particularly tragic. Sending so much love and empathy to those who have lost so much. California is so beautiful, but so startlingly apocalyptic, and at the strangest times.

And we do live in strange times, don’t we? MLK Day is tomorrow (along with the inauguration of one of the worst people to be elected President in history) and a younger generation is mourning the loss of TikTok while an older generation, pissed at social media mavens’ various betrayals, are disavowing Facebook, Twitter, and Amazon.

And me? I’ve started the new year by contemplating change to my life, both mind and body.

Taking Care of Body and Mind (and hopefully spirit) in the New Year

I am not big on New Year’s resolutions, but given the stress that the news has brought (along with increased feelings of helplessness) and the clusterfuck that is social media right now, I limited myself since Jan 1 to thirty minutes of news a day (television, newspaper, or online) and decided to cut my time on my phone and social media in half. And you know what? My terrible anxiety and depression have lessened. I’ve seen more people in person, gone out of the house more, read more books. I’ve written more poems in the new year than I had in the previous three months.

And I spent some time taking care of some physical things as well—getting an eye exam and getting new glasses made (aging and MS are hard on the eyes!) and getting the first of four front teeth crowned (without Novocain – ouch!) I spent time checking in on myself in terms of where I am in my life and what I want to spend time doing with it. I’m going through a whole house reduction in stuff—from little things like throwing out old makeup and bath products to reducing the number of items in my closets and helping Glenn get rid of worn-out items—a broken toaster oven, worn out t-shirts. We are donating, recycling, and even consigning to help reduce overall waste, but I’m telling you, this act of getting rid of stuff in general has given me a feeling of more control over my immediate environment. (Have I reduced books yet? The answer is, not enough, lol! And I got rid of expired sunscreens and lip gloss and found I had to replace them. On the positive side, I found that going to the mall once convinced me that the clothing I already have is better made and cuter than the stuff I could buy there. So has it been a perfect experiment?)

I am also looking at my network of friends and family—and my writing career/life, as it were—and seeing what I need to nurture both. If the last four years have been isolating for me, as they have been for many with poor immune systems, it seems time to start rebuilding networks of people you can care about and who care about you, strengthening bonds you want to keep. If I don’t know exactly why I write, and I’m a bit at sea about what to do next, so to speak—for the next section of my life—not exactly sure at my age what to even expect—maybe that’s pretty normal. I can prioritize things that matter and decide to get rid of things that aren’t aiding me in my life. I can’t control wars, or Presidents, or the environment, my health, or how many people read my work, but I can decide what I spend my time and energy on, and who, and what deserves that time, energy, and money.

On the plus side, we had a lovely book club meeting this month at J. Bookwalter’s discussing After Dark—staying late afterwards to talk (and some to talk and try some fancy whiskeys—what a book club!) I spent time catching up with some new poet friends. Spending time with people in person can be so life-affirming, even if it does bring a few more bugs my way. And I have a real in-person reading next week, and my neighborhood of Woodinville is getting a reading series at the winery, with an open mic after—the first literary reading series I’ve heard of in this area for some time. I want to enter the world of writers again in a more active way. Like blinking into a brighter, harsher light after reading in the dark or cave walking for some time, I’m looking with realism—and some optimism—into 2025.

Sending you all the best possible energy into the next week, which might be a challenging one. Let’s hope the planet’s alignments bode well. Let’s hope we can all work to make our individual corners of the world a little brighter, and hope, by extension, to illuminate the world.