Prompts and the Moon

Sometimes, a prompt is a test. Can I disengage from the day’s busyness—the yoga session way too many hours ago; the website updated; the walk squeezed in, almost without noticing the brisk air, the colors shifting in the trees; the breakfast cooked, the manuscript...

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Summer Thrums

The green world isn’t giving me anything else tonight. The weaving is done, and off the loom, as finished as it will ever be, that green and blue study. The leftover warp, the test patterns for the next piece, colors limited by my decision to actually make something...

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Three

Three. Three was the perfect number. True, they were scattered all over the country. Two she went to. One came to her, but not often. No locals. Most of the time she was solitary, and that’s the way she liked it. The long days at the library, listening to one needy...

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Marley One Year Later

Another not quite lost, but almost found piece, one not written in workshop. When I made my first working foray into our garden after Marley's passing, I found a mess, and a prompt. I have to confess that this picture is only an approximation--I was too appalled to...

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Thank-you Grey’s Anatomy

Ah, the magic of writing in workshop. Already I've forgotten what specific prompt I gave--a bunch of fuzzy pictures pulled off the internet, I think. One of them inspired this piece, published here with Margot's permission. Thank you, Margot! Thank-you Grey’s Anatomy...

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Marley

Last week, I talked about rediscovering pieces I wrote in workshop--I know I must have written them, because they're in my computer, but they seem all new to me, though I almost certainly recognize the emotion and opinion that informs them. Sometimes, though, I...

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