On September 12, 2001
I stood before my class
of confused and scared third graders
BIG CHANGES in small steps.
Like the man who bargained
from a red paper clip
to a house.
A poem in honor of the first snow day of the winter.
Brown pleading eyes so hopeful so earnest. I can hear her thoughts, I’m ready! Just give me the sign! I won’t let you down. She’s distracted. I’m focused. I pick up my pen. She lays by my feet waiting for the inevitable writer’s block….
This is the face of satisfaction: Computer shut mission accomplished satisfied. But it’s really like this: 258 free verse poems roughed it’s an ugly baby right now but it’s complete! And it doesn’t take long to feel like this: What’s next? Reading Wired for…
I have a confession to make. I broke the cardinal rule of writing a rough draft. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I had to do it. I read my entire MS. I know, I know. Full steam ahead. No looking back. But I…
Sound the alarm! Sound the alarm! There’s a rumbly monster outside! It’s getting nearer. Stand guard! It’s getting closer. Louder now! It’s coming for us! Ready? Bark Attack! It’s passing us! We’ve got it running for cover! You better keep going you yellow-bellied giantly…