Feral Mom, Feral Writer

woodcut by Peter Pryputniewicz The Witch’s fingers dug into the bark of the tree. She still could not see the girl’s face, just her st...

 Close up from Nefertiti Among Us Painting the ladder had been in my mind for a long time and there it was—with dark Pedernal and the...

Photographer Robyn Beattie and I are very proud to announce that three of our photo poem montages were chosen to be featured as part of a 2...

“Markham’s is a poetry of scrims and scarves, of meaning held just out of reach—not to frustrate, but to build a sense of wonder with layer...

Can I just confess, here it is fall, and I'm falling...falling behind on some goals, making progress on others. I'm still gearing ...

Summer time: time enough to fold cup after cup of blackberries into muffin dough, pancake batter, home made pie shells. Time enough, once ...

In the kingdom of hope there is no winter--Russian proverb This winter I spent a good deal of time working behind the scenes on preparing...