Poetry

Poetry Sunday: “Perhaps the World Ends Here,” by Joy Harjo

By Rebecca Foust
I looked hard to find a poem for Thanksgiving that could honor a long-cherished American tradition without glossing over the darker elements of the colonial relationship between our pilgrim ancestors and Native Americans. This poem, opening with a shared meal around a kitchen table, and written by a member of the Creek Nation strikes a good balance.
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Lifestyle

Molly Fisk: Oregon Creek

By Molly Fisk
A small creek joins the river here and a rope swing hangs over the bank. I sat listening to the sound for a while, and then wrote a poem about it, mentioning God, which is strange, since I'm a lapsed Unitarian and don't believe in God.
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Lifestyle

Molly Fisk: Counter-tops

By Molly Fisk
I’m going to remind myself why we’re having the party in the first place: to appreciate all the women who work for a non-profit where I volunteer. It’s about love and gratitude. Two of the very, very few things worth cleaning the counter-tops for.
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Poetry

Poetry Sunday: “Recuerdo,” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

By Rebecca Foust
Sometimes, all a poem does or aspires to do is capture a moment. The moment can be large or small, one of emotion, inspiration, revelation, or just any ordinary experience that means something to the poet. In “Recuerdo,” it is a night of pleasure and (I assume) passion between two young lovers.
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Lifestyle

Avoiding Capitalism 101

By Molly Fisk
Every now and then, as a person might need to binge on horrible junk food like Twinkies or Velveeta, my mind craves a break from the real world. . .Every now and then, I sit around the house like a sloth and read mail-order catalogs.
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Lifestyle

California Wildfire: Outracing the Flames

By Judie Rae
As the flames closed in on the back side of the house, we made our hurried escape. As we drove past the corrals, one of the ponies screamed, a sound I will never forget. Through tears, I wished each animal well, and we drove the hell out of there.
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