dear markdown I want you to work better for poetry
Today’s my birthday. I’m gifting myself time to think: what do I want next? How might I get there?
And so I signed up for a writing class. It’s a class not on writing itself, but about how to submit writing to publications. Last fall’s writing class, a travel essay workshop group with Don George, was wonderful – hoping this is too.
The paths we take though a city are laid out in asphalt and stone in side-yard fences in restaurants and convenience stores known and unknown.
I drove down the freeway today, took the less-than-predictable exit, one later than I'd planned - paused in front of a neon land laid out on the vertical white walls of the nearest museum. It cast a red glow like the firelight of the video installation in the next room over.