Feral Mom, Feral Writer

This Valentine's Day we did the moonscape—the snowdrop white Pismo Dunes, pristine and lovely where the kids babooned up and down for ho...

I spent today interviewing my friend Lydia Stewart regarding the volunteer work she has done for the past eight years at the California Pare...

"...the/mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either/knows enough already or knows enough to be/perfectly content not knowing..."...

...is up at Autumn Sky. New Melleray Monastery is one of my favorite places in Iowa, as I wrote in an earlier post . Also live at Reality H...

One January several years ago, 55 mph winds coursed through our redwoods. I woke and walked down the stairs to light a candle. As I blew ou...

This is poetry’s province; a form of deep memory; a place from which to witness the intangible, unspeakable thresholds of incarnation we mi...

Since the birth of my children, my father Stephen Pryputniewicz has cared for my children one day each week so I may pursue my writing (and ...