Whoopie! I will be attending AWP conference in Seattle, March 9-11 as the AWP Sue Silverman Award-winner in Creative Nonfiction ’21. I consider this an honor for which I am incredibly grateful, but also great fun and wildly entertaining as I negotiate the hoopla and just hope I can remember people's names--being that when I get nervous that's the first thing to go. Here's what's
I'll be in conversation with Patricia Ann McNair (award-winning book, Responsible Adults) at the Notebook Collective on September 20, 7:30-9:00 Here's the link. https://thenotebookscollective.com/event/in-conversation-anne-marie-oomen/
This poem was written for a collection of ten poems collected from poets all over Michigan, celebrating water and published for FLOW's annual recognition event. Only WaterHow do I explain this?Something kestrel-like and light, yetdoused. He wanted us to rise as kites, fall like rain.How do I explain him wading in to his thighs, me followingto my chest, him lacing his fingers,me facing
Performed with Ari Mokdad and Elizabeth Schulman (choreographers) at Detroit Dance City Festival, August 2019. Water Gratitude Listen beyond your ears. Listen inside the bowl, from the cradle of the Niagara Escarpment.Listen. The voices of five lakes, five senses. Beings. Listen to the thrum of our Deep Time,to the words inside the wet journey,to the knowing inside our waves. Listen to the molecular change—What
RIDDLEYou can hear our voices in the wind but we are not the wind.We lean into the earth, always filtering what is left.We hold the spirit of tallness, of all things impossible with balance.Even though we belong to the sun,we are the ocean of green.You can count our yearsinside the rings of our hearts.We do not die easily,though we can die quickly.We are tender of
Found Poem asking this: if we are truly quieter, what do we hear? Based on notes taken from an article by Robin George Andrews in the New York Times Faults the anthropogenic hiss of us has for years masked words made by our tectonic plates the planet’s shifting terrains now in our collective wills not just the neighbors but the millions who have hunkered down seismometers hear and record a lexicon of earth clearer in this
Dear Friend, I love our waters: lakes, rivers, wetlands, little sinking ponds, remote swamps. If it’s wet, I’ll probably like it. And of course, I’m worried about all of them, as I know many of you are. I often wonder what I can do. I’m not a scientist, politician, lawyer, not even a very good journalist. I often feel inadequate, a “fish out of water” when
Recently, a former student from the Solstice MFA program where I teach, Jenifer DeBellis, wrote me that her first book, Blood Sisters, had been accepted. She was excited but uncertain how to shepherd it into the future with that “human touch.” Then a similar question from T.J. Harrison on the acceptance of her book, The Fruit of Love and Grief. Both of these women had worked hard, weathered rejection, triumphed over
Let me proclaim it: I love the Lordy word. Not I love the Good Lord, an entirely different thing; I’ll discuss that shortly. Why do I love the word Lordy? First, it’s one of those exclamations I caught myself saying for the first time in a long time because, though I’d almost forgotten it, it was suddenly everywhere. I’d lost it in my willingness to