I have not written much about postpartum psychosis, only the aftermath. I’ll admit I’m not sure how to go directly into the bleak parts, but this poem came to me a few weeks ago and now I know, should I examine them fully, I have a little bright thread to lead me back out @blueskypoetry.bsky.social

When the Black Lives Matter movement picked up in 2020, and white people started actually thinking about diversity again, I remember everyone talking about the children’s book, We’re Different, We’re the same. Very cute book. Helpful. But THIS book?! Written in 1980, it deserves front and center.

While independent bookstores are giving out free whistles, hosting protest sign making events, and donating proceeds to mutual aid, Amazon is *checks notes* providing technology that assists ICE in their terrorizing of communities. Independent bookstores deserve your support. Amazon does not.

The biggest risk in this moment is something sociologists call “symbolic compliance.” That’s when an institution that is violating civil rights gives the public just enough symbolic victories that accountability efforts lose steam before there has been any meaningful change.

For the nurses. Thank you to the sleepless guardians who keep watch on my son in the night. These past few months living with my son’s cancer have had a profound impact on me. Now, whether at the hospital or at home, at night, I think of them.

I wrote this poem a few months ago. I hope it finds you well, or at least warm and cared for. #poem #poetry @readalittlepoem.bsky.social

“Once invited, / it steps in gently, / circles twice, / and takes up as much space / as you will give it. ” — Joyce Sidman . . . This poem appeared in The World According to Dog by Joyce Sidman, published by Houghton Mifflin, 2003. Shared here with deep gratitude.

One reason im starting to love homeschooling: making art throughout the day with my kids. This is a reference from Ashanti to Zulu by Margaret Musgrove, illustrated by Leo & Diane Dillon. To be clear: I cannot draw without a reference. It’s so fun though.

I think of God, and I moan. Ps. 77

It was her poem that destroyed me this morning. poets.org/2020-on-lear...

Whoever we’re about to capture, plunder, or attack next—I’m against it.

I want to start a movement. Replace your profile pic with a black dot in mourning for Renee Nicole Good who was murdered today by ICE agents in Minnesota. Here.

People talk about trying not to put on weight at Christmas, when a Christmas tradition my friends and I share is weighing ourselves on the morning and evening of Christmas day to see what percentage of us is Christmas Dinner. (The goal is to become 10% Christmas Dinner, but the current record is 7%)

A poem from a collection I’m currently working on. I hope it finds you well. #poem #poetry #poetrycommunity

From a collection of poems I’m working on. May this poem find you well. #poem #poetry #writingcommunity #art

Goodnight. And the Hare Jumped over the Moon, Deborah Sheehy.