I am honored to share that my poem “In Like a Lion” has been included in the Oregon Poetry Association 2020 Anthology of Pandemic Poems. This is a stunning collection of poetry written by Oregon poets as witness to these times. It is a document that will have both significant historical value regarding the event itself and the writers in this place who have shared their poetic response to it.
I urge you to consider purchasing a copy of this anthology either through Submittable or Wild Apricot. All the proceeds will go to continued funding for the Oregon Poetry Association. If you love poets, or if you just want a record of this year told through the words of Oregon State poets, I encourage you to buy a copy.
In so many ways my thoughts of this year will probably not be completely known until more time has passed. It has been such a difficult time for so many, especially to those who have lost people to Covid-19. I have been privileged to have a warm home to live in, food to eat, health care. I have had the privilege to reflect during this time, to think about how I would like to contribute to the world in a way that helps those less able to have the basic needs of life. And frankly, I have no desire to return to “Normal”, for it was with the slowing down, the staying put, that helped me see how much happiness could be found in my own home, my small block, my changing neighborhood. There have been things I have missed, like live music, poetry readings, coffee shops, going to dinner with friends, and I look forward to doing them again. But I have changed, and these days I wonder what I will find when I re-enter the world and will I belong?
NOTE: Due to circumstances beyond everyone’s control, this month’s reading will take place over Zoom. Email email@example.com by no later than 3 pm on June 11 to indicate your interest in participating. In the subject line, let us know if you are “Reading” or “Just Listening.” You will receive instructions for how to join the […]
I am so delighted to be reading for Ghost Town Poetry on June 11. This is my first zoom poetry reading, and I expect to read for 10 to 12 minutes. I hope some of you will follow the link above and join us.
Thanks again to Christopher Luna, poet and advocate of the arts for inviting me to read. And while these are unusual times I find hope that we are still able to find ways to share our words together.
Surfacing to have even an ocean’s chance of swimming in that phosphorescent glow you know is your center the one that too often slips out between your legs like silky kelp or the men you love but cannot hold onto attach yourself like a barnacle to the belly of a whale— dive deep into saltwater […]
Carey Taylor is the author of The Lure of Impermanence (Cirque Press, 2018). Her poetry has appeared in regional, national, and international publications and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Born in Bandon, Oregon, she has spent her entire life at the western edges of Oregon and Washington. She currently lives and writes from […]
I am honored to be included once again in this lovely journal which was born and spiritually resides in Galway, Ireland. Check them out—they publish poems from around the world and their visuals are stunning.
I have taken the last few months off from the world for some internal reflection. The death of four people in my family in 12 months caused me to turn inward, to withdraw socially and surround myself with only my greatest loves: husband, family, books, poetry, home, open spaces, neighborhood walks, and yes, I will admit, binge watching High Fidelity and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Thank you Rob and Midge for making me laugh.
And now it is Spring and out my writing window I see yellow daffodils, orange pansies and purple hellebore. The 70 year-old camellia is laden in the softest of pink blooms and the neighbor’s cherry trees are ready to pop.
And for those of you who have followed my “car wash” photos, last week I took my car to get washed and began taking pictures for the 2020 series.
I submitted five new poems (the first submission in almost a year) and heard yesterday a journal in Galway, Ireland called Dodging the Rain will publish them in May and June.
By allowing myself permission to withdraw from the world for awhile, to grieve and acknowledge the losses, the color bursting before me is calling my name to rejoin the ranks.
Or it could have been the Prozac. Either way, I am doing just fine.