Updated: Apr 11, 2022
Prompt: write a nonet, in which the first line has nine syllables, the next eight, decreasing by one syllable each line.
The sky, cloud-knotted, suddenly blued,
then specks of rain, then clear again.
Light skimming the boxwood hedge
painting shadows sap green.
It’s here again, spring,
songbirds back to
break my heart.
again.
Joy!
Prompt: a duplex, per Jericho Brown The air so still it makes my heart thrum. I can hear the strumming robins’ wings as they dart and dip beneath the dippling lilac bough that came down in the storm,
On Writing a Novel If I knew how to write a novel, it would be about two sisters in a big, fractured family. They’re in the middle. One tries, all her life, to understand the other. She thinks of her
On Learning to Paint More often than not, I’ve simply stood in dumb awe at the world, unmoving, unable to speak, a gasp held tight in my chest. Near my heart. But now, I load my brush with cobalt, red