Sometimes poetry–words–give us a small, lovely look at ourselves. And sometimes that is enough.

…there are some things for which there are no answers, no matter how beautiful the words may be.

This is important to writing. . . that is, it is important to my own writing. This. . . is landscape! Mine. This dirt came from the prairie where I was a child. I played...

Some words may make you happy, some may make you said. Maybe some will make you angry. What I hope. . . what I hope is that something will whisper in your ear.

Fact and fiction are different truths.

Where else,” I will say, “does an old turtle crossing the path Make all the difference in the world?