Ghosts, Talking

 

Fifteen years ago, my son and daughter were my first audience for this story. I read the beginning to them during a heat wave. We sat beneath a dogwood tree, cooling our feet in a plastic kiddie pool. 

Later, they graduated from high school, then college. Then went back to college and graduated again. Got jobs. Meanwhile, I was coming back to this story again and again, believing there was something there.  Looking at it from different angles. Shaping it. Trying to decide how it ended. Renaming it.

And here it is. 

All that time and thought makes the happiness of seeing "Ghosts, Talking" in the new Issue of Gold Man Review all the sweeter. You can take a look here. 

Thank you to the editors!

Getting to Know You

 

Thank you, Willamette Writers! What a great time chatting with Francesca G. Varela, Mark Teppo and other writers at The Portland Book Festival. 

Photo by Gail Pasternack.

Meet Me at the Fair!

I'll be at the Willamette Writers booth at the Portland Book Festival this Saturday, November 4, 1 - 1:30 p.m. Come say hello and check out my book Not Me: Poems About Other Women, which was published in 2022 by Finishing Line Press.

Lucky 13

 

I'm so delighted to have one of my poems included in this spellbinding anthology, the 13th issue of The Poeming Pigeon. You can click here to purchase it.

Women, Before and After -- Creative Nonfiction by Anonymous

On October 2, 2023, my women's creative writing class took inspiration from Lucille Clifton's poem "Climbing." I'm so happy to share this creative nonfiction piece by one of the participants of that group.

Women, Before and After October 2, 2023

by Anonymous

I am at work in the office at Child Development Center one day when two younger women (by a generation) enter. I catch only a bit of the conversation when one announces the mailman is at the door. 

The second young woman remarks, "You mean the mail person?"

"I don't know what the big deal is," replies young woman #1.

I spoke up. The big deal, I stated, is that when I was a girl the word Man was meant literally and completely. Any occupation ending in Man meant I was not to strive to do it. ONLY MEN NEED APPLY.

It was huge that I did become the letter carrier. One of a handful in Portland in the late '70s.

At that time, I was hired as a fill-in. My route could change daily or after several weeks, whichever needed. I would be "casing" a route and hear: "Don't put the girl on my route." I would pay that carrier back, when I did get placed on his route by running it off, finishing my day in under eight hours. A continued performance of this type would open questions as to whether the route needed added addresses. When this and other carriers complained and told me I had to stop, I would reply that I would stop running their route when they stopped running their mouths.

Always remember, I told the young woman, someone fought, so you could question if it is only a word.

Kisses on the Back Porch -- Poetry by Liz Samuels

A few weeks ago my email prompt class took inspiration from the poem "Kissing a Horse" by Robert Wrigley. 

Thank you to Liz Samuels for letting me share her kiss poem, which is a heady mix of rhythm, repetition and vivid imagery. Enjoy!

Kisses on the Back Porch

 

A pluck of the guitar, a chime in the wind

a liquid drip falling on rock,

 

Coos, chirps and trills

random and musical

 

Sun shining on pebbles

seeming to sleep

 

all kisses

 

A bee collecting pollen’s shadow

appearing on a cabin log

 

The fluttering stinger of a Queen

positioning her eggs

 

Fragrance released

from a hanging pansy basket

 

all kisses

 

Threading wicker cradles

completing a container

 

Quiet snapping of flip flops

as skin meets sand

 

A puff dot on a netted blouse

whispering “hello”

 

all kisses

 

A peck to comfort cheeks

red and round

 

A peacock plume

tickling the air

 

A pen flowing

ink upon parchment

 

all kisses

 

Whiskers detecting vibration

tasting salt on vial rims

 

Butterflies tipping their wings

tapping hither and thither

 

Seeds sprinkled across fields

for a future harvest yield

 

all kisses

About the Author

Liz Samuels has been writing from Linda Ferguson's prompts for about eight years, as therapy, and for entertainment. This poem was written during an unexpected turn of events when her husband threw out his back and she found herself alone on a Central Oregon porch. She immersed herself in the beauty of the sights, smells, and sounds surrounding her. Sensations emerged  from her teacher's hint that contained the word "kiss." Here she shares the  welcome calm that began to envelop her.

Apple Is Good

Thank you to The Opiate for including my story "The Gospel According to Naomi" in their summer issue.