In grad school a writing professor asked each person in Wooden Woman’s class why they wanted to write. Turns out, this was a quiz, and included a write and wrong answer. The write answer: I enjoy playing with words. The wrong answer: I want to say something (i.e. communicate). Wooden Woman said ... read more
7. RUSSELL SCREAMED
Russell screamed a lot for a four year old. Five older brothers and sisters, Russell found high-pitched and extended screaming the best and most effective repellant to their control. When Wooden Woman’s Dog was Cute Puppy, Cute Puppy would not go on a walk. Walks were a drag. Literally. Sitting down ... read more
6. SLIPPING AROUND
Why is ice slippery? Nope, it’s not steely pressure of blade or boot melting a little film of water to glide on. Or the frictional screech of brakes instantly warming black ice beneath your smoking tires. Most Kenyans that Wooden Woman knows have never seen snow or even sloshed an ice cube across ... read more
5. CAUGHT BETWEEN INFINITIES
Two Infinities: 1. Everything outside her… 2. Everything inside her… Wooden Woman finds herself exactly in the middle of everything. Consider the weather. From a stirring of air lifting a hair to supernovas, a hundred million times brighter than the sun, exuding brilliant showers of radiation, Wooden Woman, even ... read more
4. DUST
Wooden Woman wonders about dust. Mountains crumble into rocks; water tears rock into gravel; gravel’s washed and worn down to dirt; dirt’s pulverized to powdery dust, fine enough to be flour. The ground. Aptly named. Detritus of stars… …shavings of sweaters and skin. Everything is dust. Life depends on ... read more
3. Hollow Bones
Wooden Woman remembers finding out about hollow bones. You know, hollow bones—one reason bird flight is possible. Such a clever and intricate adjustment for weight. AH HAH! and OF COURSE! If you love the color green choose the lime colored budgie. Gold wire cage. Food. Sand. You’ve read up on care of birds, of ... read more
2. She calls it My Chair
Wooden Woman’s father had His Chair. Wooden Woman has My Chair. Big enough to scrunch her whole self into a corner, feet curled under her. She leaves room for My Dog. My Dog is gone now—a story for another time. Suffice it to say chairs and dogs are conducive to both reading and thinking. Today Wooden Woman crawls into My Chair and ... read more
1. FROST
Wooden Woman pours a cup of boiling water and slips out the front door into ten-below-zero winter. She nods to those watching from the window, steadies the contents as she pulls her arm back, and without warning flings the water in a violent arc overhead. Instantaneous cloud making. Quite miraculous. Nothing at all drops to the ground. It ... read more
NA PO MO National Poetry Month
What is in a name? In this case, permission. National Poetry Month: Permission to write a poem. Or read a poem. Consider poetry. Poetry. The most condensed form of language. Don't be afraid--its all just playing with words. Each year I try to change it up. This time a Pantoum. Please join me. Post your poem in the comments. The basic Pantoum ... read more
For Lynne
Undeterred by clouds or other routines, she checks each day for a message testing the tension on a thin wire of patience strung across wide wide skies. ~ I love you for this. ... read more
FIFTH ENTRY
Do hard things. I went to Kenya recently. Was it hard? Hmmmmm. What is hard? I have imposed on you, gentle readers, the notion that at the very least, I have become flabby, flaccid, can I say spineless when it comes to stepping into adversity, stepping into the unknown, even seeking to enjoy hard labor. Kenya held all these ... read more
FOURTH ENTRY: Patience
Oh goodness, you are the one praying for patience? Look at the trouble you stirred up. Didn’t you get the memo? * This is how we pray. What would happen if when impatience rages, it is deemed an alert. Suddenly you blurt out …. BRING IT ON. Bring. It. On. Can we do that? Should ... read more
