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A Poem of Self

Posted on April 13, 2014

Seventy inches, maybe 69, all mine hazel eyes, moody hair, constellations of freckles this upper lip that gets caught on a tooth skin that erupts in chills at the sound of a stretched cotton ball a throat that tightens and eyes that sting more often as the years pass, sometimes from joy other times not I’m getting better with not with not fair and not my problem not like others and not ready yet   The gift of these years is this my 70 inches, or maybe 69, finally fit I touch each one, rather than shrink from I know the outline and color my edges I can stay in the lines or bleed beyond the reflexive snarl of my twenties—still there but the…

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A Light Touch

Posted on April 12, 2014

  Sean and I wrote a post back in November, which we shared here a few weeks ago. It was a post that, as one commenter wrote, did not resolve itself. I’ve struggled with how, when, and what to respond with in this space. We knew we were running the risk of judgement, maybe even putting people off with touching on such a delicate topic.  I’ve been deeply humbled by the private messages that I have received from men and women who felt a connection to our words. Wisdom, regrets, anger, they all came through with unflinching honesty. Sean took serious heat in some of the comments on Huffington Post and even more in threads that grew on twitter. A few jabs came at me pretty hard…

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Excuse Me

Posted on April 11, 2014

Wednesday morning I set out for a quick 36 hour, conference whirlwind. As I made the drive from Glens Falls to Lake Placid I played the radio game, and as mountains on either side of me rose, I hit the seek button. I drank a 24 oz bottle of water and a 12oz unsweetened iced tea as I listened to country music, Vermont Public Radio, french pop, and then back to VPR.  Travel, no matter how brief, always leads me to drink more water and coffee, the former making me feel virtuous and the latter decadent. Before checking into my hotel I stopped at a couple of stores to pick up sweets to give away at my table at the conference. I bought another…

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The Talk

Posted on April 8, 2014

Finley and Avery were tucked in their beds, so sleepy that they’d drifted off to sleep before I’d crossed the threshold. Briar was waiting for me in her room. I slipped beneath the covers and rubbed noses with her. We talked for a few minutes before she sprang the baby question on me. It wasn’t like other times, she wasn’t casually wondering. How does it happen? Who does what? How does it feel? The questions came at me so fast that I had no time for doubt. The volley of question and answer went on for about fifteen minutes, until she changed the conversation like a right hand turn. “I think I found my library book.” I kissed her goodnight and stroked her forehead…

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Pencils & Keyboards

Posted on April 7, 2014

When I read about broken homes I wonder what they’re like and then I realize, alternately sheepishly and defensively, that I am one of their statistics. A broken home, or is it really a fixed home? Did our houses break or did they realize that they hadn’t been built correctly to start? An odd introduction, to be sure, but this does have a connection to today’s post. Because while I don’t feel like divorce is something that I survived or overcame, it did play a role in my love of reading. It was between the ages of 11 and 14 that we made the separated to living-in-separate-states to divorced transition. It all began in the midst of an Archie comic book phase, the allure…

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