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Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

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writing

Chantarelle’s Notebook

I have been absent, from here, from my life and my writing. For now, breathing is about the best I can do and poetry is the only thing I have to share.

I haven’t written or submitted much at all this year, so I am thrilled to have 2 poems in Chantarelle’s Notebook today. If you would like, you can read them here.

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The Furious Gazelle

The Furious Gazelle is having a spring contest, free to enter and you could get some money!  They publish some really great, edgy stuff and I encourage everyone to take a shot and enter the contest!  You have until June 1.  Why not take a shot!!!!

Rearranging the Furniture

Joe and I have lived in our apartment together for almost 10 years (he lived here 4 years before I moved in) and periodically, we rearrange the furniture.  We love it.  It makes the apartment feel brand new.  It may seem like a stretch, but when I was thinking about my writing the other day, and how much I have been floundering, I drew a parallel in my mind to rearranging the furniture.  When Joe and I start feeling a bit stuck in our apartment, we move things around and clean inside corners that have been long ignored, and we both feel refreshed.  Our most recent rearrange was to move Joe’s desk into our second bedroom, creating an office for him, which means our formerly shared space (what is meant to be a dining area) has become mine.  We were both excited for the change, but (here is where the writing connection comes in) it also ended up shining a light on how much I haven’t been writing.   Continue reading “Rearranging the Furniture”

This Isn’t About Self Doubt

I feel hollow, as if the pulp of my heart has been scooped out and its shell stripped of texture and color.  I have lost poetry, misplaced language. Or perhaps I have siphoned out everything I had to give and now it is time to recognize that the glimmers of my words have been luck, and that my luck has run out. Continue reading “This Isn’t About Self Doubt”

Out of Ink

I touched briefly yesterday on the idea of trying to create balance in my life, shaping the time I have in ways that let light in from all directions.  I have never been good at this, but if I don’t figure out a way to make it happen, I am afraid the walls I build will become so thick, I will be trapped in the gaze of a single light that pushes possibility and experience into complete darkness. Continue reading “Out of Ink”

The Final Hunt – Part 9

Steve has tagged me for something different today,  something which, as he says, is not in my wheelhouse, but I adore Steve and the idea of a story written by several writers, so I couldn’t resist.  My task is to  add to a story originally started by Teresa, the Haunted Wordsmith, and expanded beautifully by 7 (so far) other writers.  Hopefully I won’t totally mess it up.  This is the story so far…… Continue reading “The Final Hunt – Part 9”

Fleeting

I was taking a break.  I am…..taking a break, stepping away from myself.  Or so I thought. I realized it is impossible.  I am always around.  I can’t step out of my skin or get out of my head. I can’t erase my years or escape the barbs of the fence I have been forced to traverse.  No matter how much I want it, I can’t be anyone but me.

I felt better for a few days.  I danced and felt the life in my blood and in my breath.  But, it seems the good is always fleeting.  I find myself feeling  so heavy and motionless again, my breath weighing me down, my feet nailed to the earth.  I sit here and think about writing and stare at the wall and wish I could dissolve into the air, slip free from the shackles that constrict my motion and incapacitate my thoughts.

I got a rejection this morning that hit me so hard.  I knew it was coming, and yet when it came, I felt the wind knocked out of me.  Stupidly, I thought if my poetry was accepted for this particular issue of this particular magazine, it would mean my poetry has value.  I know it doesn’t work that way.  I just got my mind wrapped so tightly around the idea, it was hard to let go.  Joe helped me see that it was never the magazine that mattered, but the poems themselves. Some of the poems in this particular submission were some of the hardest I have ever written, took more out of me that most.  I suppose I felt as if my hardest work ended up being crap.  I know it doesn’t work that way.  Intellectually, I get it.  Emotionally, I am swallowing glass.

 

Process and Practice

Being a writer, I think a lot about both the writing process and writing practice.  I have realized over the past year, how these things fluctuate and my views about both shift and change. Continue reading “Process and Practice”

Pedestals of Glass

It feels a bit strange to be dropping in, posting a bit of poetry and curling back into my solitude, but here I am doing just that.  Although I have been missing all of the amazing writing and support that comes from this strange and wonderful WP world, I am taking some much needed time to immerse myself in collections of poetry, by wonderful writers such as Steve Denehan (just started reading his collection and you should too), and trying to get inspired to write my own collection, while continuing to learn more about the craft of writing poetry.

All of that said, I can’t resist a challenge and even during my hiatus, I can’t keep myself away from Visual Verse and TLT.  This month’s Visual Verse image was very provocative and brought about some gorgeous writing from some of my favorite contemporary writers.  If you are interested in reading my contribution to the challenge, you can do so here.

If you haven’t participated in Visual Verse, give it a go next month.  It is super fun!

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