
I Am a Writer Because of Mary Oliver
:: She forced me to reckon with every word I put down on the page. I didn’t understand what words were until that writing workshop. I was nineteen years old.
:: She forced me to reckon with every word I put down on the page. I didn’t understand what words were until that writing workshop. I was nineteen years old.
:: Family history can mean a lot more than what you write on your medical forms.
:: A bipolar diagnosis can create a new kind of loneliness.
:: “I love teaching poets. They never waste words.”
:: I always wanted to live hard, and that I have done so my grey hairs will attest.
:: Today’s poem is brought to you by my younger self who was already wildly disillusioned with men, and by Sir Thomas Wyatt.