Curator’s note:  Carl Sandburg said, “a poem is like an echo asking a shadow to dance.” I think this is a such a wonderful description of what I do as a poet:  listen to the echoes, see the shadows in everyday life and from the past, then fuse these to make what I hope is poetic music.  It’s that process that makes hours spent writing melt away.  I love the fact that I’m so often surprised as to where my poems take me.


November 27, 2010


Chapter Two

It was 1910. At fifteen, he was in love with a white girl,  dark haired, beautiful in the trashy section of Gould, Arkansas, four blocks down from where he lived.  She had pale hair and was tall and slender like something from a field. Read the rest of this entry »


November 18, 2010

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