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Artist, writer, unapologetic progressive, LGBTQ+ ally
A super easy way to keep up with your old pal Katy is to subscribe to my newsletter!
Artist, writer, unapologetic progressive, LGBTQ+ ally
This poem started out as one thing, and it ended up feeling far too raw and personal to share, so I worked really hard to crystallize it into something shorter and hopefully more relatable.
My poetry is nearly always written in first person, but that does not mean that it is always about me. Sometimes it IS about me, or at least a version of me, but not always.
I finished this poem that I posted in rough draft form last week. I’m pretty happy with it now. It’s about connections that blaze across time and space.
I am really proud of this poem, but I'm sort of afraid to have other people read it. But I'm being brave and posting it. What good is a poem if nobody reads it?
I wrote a thing this afternoon. I don’t know how finished this is and I would love any feedback or editorial comments.
I didn’t think I had poetry in me anymore… but somehow I have found the right key to that long-closed door.
I wrote twelve lines about experiencing pain, and there’s a lot more where this came from. Writing it out doesn’t lessen the pain, but if even one person reads my words and feels seen… well, that’s everything.
In 1994 I wrote a six paragraph story about an alien abduction. I’m reasonably sure it’s not autobiographical.
It’s always hard for me to know when creative work is actually “done,” but I guess I am ready to release this poem into the world. Writing and editing it didn’t take me as long as I thought it would.
Some time in the late 1980s, I wrote a story about a killer Bundt cake. I think that this may have been one of those times where I had an unbearably boring class assignment (perhaps “use the word phagocytosis in a sentence”) and took it way too far.