Hey there! Maureen is using Twitter.
Twitter is a free service that lets you keep in touch with people through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing? Join today to start receiving Maureen's updates.
|
Who has the power and capacity to (re)imagine cities? |
Running for the train, the sky dropping polished knives onto the steel sea! |
With purple teeth and Seamus Heaney in a tent, what's left to desire? |
My computer is kaputered. Easy fix... but I write more by hand. |
Digging December grit, frost and gravel to plant a new year's rainbow. |
Chrismukkah party. It strikes me that atheists have less profane fun. |
My advisor's mad; keeps reading desire to bear children in my poems. |
Slept in a home of stones stacked against the west coast. Ferns and moss indoors. |
Here where the women tip whiskies while the foreign boys forfeit to tea. |
I took up grad school -- then threw it down, smashed it, and gleaned the luscious bits. |
@Blaine has brought me new poetry, a pipe... "Ceci n'est pas ironique". |
Rain washes windows, wind buttles waves, and church bells bark their Sunday song. |
@Blaine , the ocean is calling you back. It's SHOUTING. You'd better hurry. |
I stay up later than the town pub; the lighthouse, much later than me. |
@Blaine is allergic to wool. He knits. Conflicted enough for this film? [ bit.ly/wool100 ] |
Cantaloupe, toffee, summer-dry grass, and hot tar: Locke's 8 Year Whiskey. |
Oranges peeled in Stradivarian Ss and Bosphoran straits. |
Working the dearth of sunlight like a fruit bat: wide eyes and oranges! |
Covertly, good bread and existentialism both count on magic. |
@rabble -- you should try Belfast; we're onto sixteen hours of night per day! |
