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lenten journal: touch screen
Since I get on the train around 5:30 in the morning, most of us riding into New York use the time to sleep–until the train stops at 125th Street, and then we start to move about. Some get their stuff together but stay seated, and others (like me) stand up near the door just to…
lenten journal: sing to me
I went to New York for work today and the train ride hope turned into a litany of loved ones who are hurting tonight for a number of reasons. As I sat down to write, I found myself turning to the words–and music–of others. Red Molly is a trio who harmonize like they are related….
lenten journal: something other than fear
Tonight’s post was supposed to be from Durham, North Carolina. I was going to drive down for the week to check on our house, see friends I dearly miss, and then watch basketball games all next weekend with my friend Jay. The NCAA decided that Jay should stay put in Boston. I wrestled with whether…
lenten journal: poetry
The woman who wrote the article I talked about yesterday said one of the ways she tried to reach her daughter was to put poems in her shoes because, she said, “What I wanted her to know is: People have been in pain before, struggled to find hope, and look what they’ve done with it.”…
lenten journal: parking lot poetry
parking lot poetry I dress myself with rain make a hat of the clouds and a scarf of the wind a coat of many shadows I can see the stepping pools across the asphalt if I watch my step I can hit every one of the puddles I am a body of water walking on…
lenten journal: blank
I started a new train book on the way to work this morning: Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer by Peter Turchi. The book, as the title suggests, uses cartography as an extended metaphor for writing. As the train worked its way to New Haven this morning, Turchi was talking about the importance…


You all look great!!!!!!!!!!!