When my mother was a kid, she used to proudly announce whenever her parents drove past her elementary school: "That's my school, m...

In a world where 65 year olds have no wrinkles, where Photoshop magically gives adult women the 18 inch waist Scarlett O’Hara dreamed of, ...

Michael took this picture (okay, I begged and whined a little asking for this angle and that) in the botanical gardens in Singapore.  I w...

  The fall of 2011.   And then . . . Singapore, Beijing, Newark, Mantua, Chicago, D.C.   Because travel is part of the job ...

On Sunday Michael and I, along with 3 other Cleveland poets will be honored to read poems of our choosing at a Cleveland Orchestra Concert c...

There's nothing poetical about getting your feet cut -- voluntarily. The pain really has to be too much before you present yourself at ...

Sometimes writing by assignment can bring some surprising results, This morning Michael led the teachers in his memoir activity. In my brai...

It happened again. This time a young woman. College aged. She came up to me after our recent poetry reading at Bowling Green University Fire...

The next move, Lisa suggests, will help to quiet the monkey mind. My monkey mind immediately scratches behind my ear, looking for possible ...

When librarian Joyce Miller contacted us about dishing up some poetry at the middle school in Hanoi for April Fool's Day she was not jus...

How does the tourist cross the road? Or. Would you step into this traffic? Hanoi! Developing. On the move. New friends. The Dragon Hotel is ...