Peter, Beth and I sit in the back room mesmerized by Captain Kangaroo’s bouncing ping pong ball tapping out the words to Old Macdonald Had a Farm. Mom rustles into the room, her arms full of white lace. She barely glances at us, on the floor, knee to knee, too close to the TV. “You three stay out,” she hisses through clenched teeth, before pushing out through the side door. We look at each other and then race to the door to catch it before it slams. We peek over the cement s

My earliest memories don’t include a time without my sister. There are pictures, of course, of the time before memory, of my infant self...

I walked confidently into the airport in Guatemala City three hours before my 6 AM flight. After a week at Lake Atitlán, my Spanish was...

They say  beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder So I let my eyes… Look in the mirror And see–-sparse wiry strands, a loose cover over...

I can’t remember your name I can’t remember your face But I will never forget Our time together  A few hours of my life That altered my...

Who would I be without the places I lived? Without the people in those places? I carry Texas in my big bones, Scranton in my heart, and...

History has never been without Land grabs By every group speaking every language worshipping in every religion for every reason On the...

I first met Kristi Nelson decades ago when we were both on the cusp of middle age. She had just met my friend, Linda Hannum (who is now...

Living a Creative Life I love discovering new artists, writers, and creatives. It is even more exciting when a creative person bridges...

Two Haikus

When I squat into goddess pose there is so much to reclaim – starting with birth. My birth. Your birth and all the births before us that...

It is said that the redwood trees walk at night, softly, their roots stepping gently on the fertile soil we thought kept them in place....

June 11, 2023 11:00 AM Lake Harriet Rose Garden Thank you all for being here today. Thank you to Miranda Bryan,...

(Beth voice-recorded this series of stories for Olivia when she was hospitalized with Covid in September, 2021.) Two people were once...

(From a word to a sound, from idyllic to criminal, word-play turns serious when sound meets meaning, and meaning metes meanness.) Folding...

(This poem is two ragged, diminished “sonnets” in shock to find my life timed to end along with my world.) If what seems to be so is so,...

So she So he So they say So instead So it was So there The old so-and-so So it goes So long And so on And so So La Ti Do Ah so So good So...

(on the Statan Island-Manhattan Ferry) SO MOVING SO orange so orbital so epochal we are chugging away so fast so doggone slow so touching...

I Feel Close to Nature Too by Irene Christensen I Feel Close to Nature Too I feel close to nature too earth moves in the hot sky green...

Māori Woman by Irene Christensen Māori Woman She weaves her fate carefully. Bone and ancient music guide her face marks to solemnize her...

Daydreams by Irene Christensen Daydreams Two enigmatic women, their Botticelli beauty looms undeniable. Like the butterfly they long to...

A moment tenderly unfolding it could be anywhere, any time, a time when I am truly present not lost somewhere in my tangled mind. Look,...

I was going to write a poem but I made a pie instead. It was much easier, and so much more appreciated. I mean, you can eat a pie, you...

My dreams took up the job of writing coach early on. At twenty-one I wrote in the artists’ sketchbook that served as my journal: “My...