I’m from the “Everything Matters” school of writing.
I feel entirely blessed. I have the pleasure and privilege of devoting my time to making and performing poems, teaching writers of all ages, free-lance journalism, teaching poetry in museums, and generally making all the important, juicy mistakes of life.
I am dedicated to studying and teaching creative process as the next major phase in the development of the Future Human. All while living seriously rural, in the ponderosa and aspen splendor of the Colorado High Country, surrounded by the blessed presence of my children, my sweetheart…and elk, deer, fox and bear; and a wealth of wildflowers!
It’s a life about passion, and choices. And joy. And having fun.
Years ago, leaving NYC, my childhood home: I chose New Mexico. Chose her above all others for beauty, for the possibility of preserving still-pristine landscape, air and waters, for her swirl of tangy cultures, and green chile and melted cheese on everything.
And now, have chosen again. Chosen to live near my children, and my Beloved, to live my wild, delicious Writing Life in the sacred presence of my family, and extraordinary Beauty.
My writing, performing and teaching come from my faith in the delicate and intricate connection of our political, emotional, cognitive, spiritual, imaginational bodies, both within the self, and within the social web, to each other.
And all of this connected to our funny bone.
I am lucky: I love to write. I love the balancing of craft and passion, the work behind the work. And then, I love to read it to you.
Because that’s what completes the circle of the creative act: it’s not “whole and sole” without your presence.
So, Everything Matters:
Being a force for good in the world, keeping a sense of justice and a sense of humor. Knowing to fall in love with each other, good desserts, red tails in flight. To notice Bear Creek when she is running full, the appearance of morning doves in June, the line breaks in Williams, the melody in Yeats, the instress in Hopkins and the way the lilacs fill the city with purple blossoms in April.
To use my mother’s good dishes because she never did, and my own gift with language, because if I don’t, who will?
Making love, dinner and connections. Getting the point. Listening deeply to the music of the ordinary, the wisdom of elders and infants, and the night wind moving through. And singing it back, as best my innate talents and acquired skills will grant me.
Making sure my best keeps getting better.
Admiring the plain, astonishing beauty everywhere present, and not losing sight of the fallen, the Middle East, and oil spilling onto our so-vulnerable seacoasts.
Remembering to show gratitude, forgiveness and a little leg.
Remembering that if it’s true that 90% of success is just showing up, 10% of every effort goes for glory.
So, I am here, pen in hand, ready, willing, able: and going for gold.