Write Right

05/10/2024

To celebrate my boss’s promotion, my coworkers and I all brought or made ornaments that reflected our personalities and quirks. Obviously, I crocheted an ornament featuring my gray cat, a book, and glasses. It’s art; it’s literature; it’s nerdy. 🤓 🐱 🧶

03/02/2022

Yusef Komunyakaa’s poem “Kindness” opens with the following lines: .....When deeds splay before usprecious as gold & unused chancesstripped from the whine bone,we know the moment kindheartednesswalks in. The five lines evoke a world, one in which there is an “us,” a “we.” This we—perhaps two people, perhaps a large number of people—examines deeds and unused chances, almost appearing as riches displayed on velvet cloth or constellations on a clear, blue-black night....

Yusef Komunyakaa’s poem “Kindness” opens with the following lines: …..When deeds splay before usprecious as gold & unused chancesstripped from the whine bone,we know the moment kindhearte…

02/09/2022

Well, hello. Apologies for the monumental delay in finishing Write Right’s Alphabet Adventure. It’s a bit like getting to the end of the alphabet game—the one where you go on a trip and try to name an alphabetical list of animals or fruit or some other entity—and struggling to successfully complete, and win, the game. Alas, no prizes will be awarded to Write Right....

Well, hello. Apologies for the monumental delay in finishing Write Right’s Alphabet Adventure. It’s a bit like getting to the end of the alphabet game—the one where you go on a trip and try to name…

01/19/2022

I debated the title of this article throughout the morning, which is no surprise. I frequently argue with myself about words and punctuation marks. (Is this a sign I’m a writer? Perhaps, perhaps.) Should I say “best” or “favorite”? “Best” implies a standard of quality—one hopes an objective standard, yet the word often falls victim to conceptions of taste rather than quality....

I debated the title of this article throughout the morning, which is no surprise. I frequently argue with myself about words and punctuation marks. (Is this a sign I’m a writer? Perhaps, perhaps.) …

10/14/2020

Welcome back to Write Right’s Alphabet Adventure! I apologize for the delay; raising support for a residency, being a resident at The Austin Stone, and starting a new job commandeered my life. But we — I — return with a more-or-less regular installment of the series in hopes of concluding it before the end of 2020. [ 1,148 more word ]

Welcome back to Write Right’s Alphabet Adventure! I apologize for the delay; raising support for a residency, being a resident at The Austin Stone, and starting a new job commandeered my life. But …

10/06/2020

Inspired by Yusef Komunyakaa's "Kindness"

Inspired by Yusef Komunyakaa’s “Kindness”

09/30/2020

Poetry’s strength resides in its words and punctuation. Consider the “still” in Claudia Borowicz’s “September Tomatoes”: [ 401 more words ]

Poetry’s strength resides in its words and punctuation. Consider the “still” in Claudia Borowicz’s “September Tomatoes”:

09/28/2020

Inspired by Karina Borowicz's "September Tomatoes"

Inspired by Karina Borowicz’s “September Tomatoes”

08/31/2020

Anne Sexton’s poem “Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound”—which is far too long to include with this brief reflection—begins in the middle of things. The speaker says, “I am surprised to see / that the ocean is still going on.” With that single sentence the speaker alludes to a history not ever fully disclosed to the reader. [ 523 more words ]

Anne Sexton’s poem “Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound”—which is far too long to include with this brief reflection—begins in the middle of things. The speaker says, “I am s…

08/31/2020

Inspired by Anne Sexton's "Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound"

Inspired by Anne Sexton’s “Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound”

07/22/2020

It's the Final Newsletter - https://mailchi.mp/8f81fa3f16bd/erins-residency-fieldnotes-3275758

07/07/2020

Subway Wind Far down, down through the city’s great gaunt gutThe gray train rushing bears the weary wind;In the packed cars the fans the crowd’s breath cut,Leaving the sick and heavy air behind.And pale-cheeked children seek the upper doorTo give their summer jackets to the breeze;Their laugh is swallowed in the deafening roarOf captive wind that moans for fields and seas; [ 959 more words ]

I find myself wondering, perhaps because of a growing awareness of systemic racism, how Claude McKay’s experiences as a Black man influence “Subway Wind.”