They hand you a boxFour neat lines joined at supremely perfect right anglesYour body, rounded at the edges, pliable, more flesh than muscleSqueezing yourself into shape you triumph, look you say, I fitSkin compacted into nothingnessCells harnessed to behave One … Continue reading They hand you a box
Aneri Pattani writes, “Can teaching mindfulness through smartphones cure America’s loneliness problem?” The study, published Monday in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, involved 153 adults practicing 20-minute guided meditations on their phone each day for two weeks. … Continue reading What about the letters?
I was looking up details on the snow we are expecting tomorrow and came across these wonderful pictures of snow in Amsterdam. They are absolutely stunning. I had posted some pictures of the snow we had last winter. This year … Continue reading Snow Expected
On A Train for A Personal interview. 10 Jan. 2015. 8:33 am train from Schipol to Paris Nord, announcement: “you can travel in this train only if you have reservations.” There is no sunrise yet. The sky is grey; the … Continue reading Of Diaries & Essays: meditations on memory, what have I lost?
Over the weekend I attended and spoke at the Poem Unlimited Conference at Augsburg. The venue, the Augsburg University, has a beautiful campus. The trees were in Autumn hues. I was narrated the story of a duck family in the … Continue reading Poem Unlimited, Augsburg
Saturday, January 10, 2015, I was to be in Paris for the day to meet poet and translator Marilyn Hacker. I had many questions about her experience with the ghazal and ghazal poets; she was generous enough to offer her … Continue reading Paris in the rain
“Postcard from Kashmir” Kashmir shrinks into my mailbox, my home a neat four by six inches I always loved neatness. Now I hold the half-inch Himalayas in my hand. This is home. And this is the closest … Continue reading Shahid’s The Half-Inch Himalayas
“Royal” We are one of those long-married couples who do not speak. Especially after our argument on the train to Brighton, we do not speak. For the life of me, I can’t read a timetable, while my husband can. Around … Continue reading “Royal” by Carol Stone