Photo by Ariel on Unsplash

When the words come,
I think them clichéd
The good ones feel like that at first
like this bit about

Ha, at night after glasses of red wine I pull the books down from the shelf
and read their opening lines

How we are drawn in,
then crushed by these first words —
better by these than the final ones
and the rush of silence that follows

You know, before this poem was the urge to dance
a feeling so strong
it had to go somewhere

but of course I have a job to go to in the…

Credit: Edwin Hooper

We were lost before we knew it / social distancing put words to / our fear magnified / phone calls, fist bumps, fast gatherings / a salve for the day before / when our distance was rose-colored / not so concrete (6 feet)/ we will heal these wounds / now we can feel them

Thanks to Trapeta Mayson, the Poet Laureate of Philadelphia, for the prompt, as well as Lehigh University and the Global Citizenship Education Conference for hosting her talk and discussion, “How Poetry Helps us Reframe, Reimagine and Rebuild.”

My mind is color fading into cold


I leave and enter rooms

as I end sentences:

without punctuation


The promise of deep calm

draws me to subtraction


I read to rest my thoughts


Writing should tear me apart;

The less I have,

The closer I get to silence

An online summer writing opportunity to help you write and connect with others during a time when in-person conferences are on hiatus

Our friends at Anam Cara Experiences (thanks, Payam Salehi) are offering a special invite to Curiosity Never Killed the Writer followers for their next 5-week “Online Writing Quest.” I have not yet had the opportunity to join a quest to experience it for myself, but I plan to in the future. It sounds supportive and so perfectly aligned with our publication that I wanted to help spread the word. This is NOT a sales pitch; I simply loved the mission of the community.

Payam has shared with me that during the quest you’ll set your own writing goal, be matched…

Photo by Kristian Seedorff on Unsplash

The push & pull
of terror & teeth chatter,

Every place
is dark & deep

The crows caw

Corn husks
& honk of geese

Fall is here —
we warm our
so close,

the moon
count the stars

The days
are short
& fall
into sleep

Footbridge Park in Blairstown, NJ

I will show you
sound of cicada,
that steady buzz hum song

taste of summer heat
on the tongue

the sweet grass
green meadow

Nothing is precise
or pristine
So why should poetry

Ours is an aging world
What’s new is old
in a moment

Tattered fabric,
fading color,
curling edges

The stink of summer
we take
with the light,
languid days,
these firefly nights

Echoes of a dream —
not the thing itself

Photo by Hannes Wolf on Unsplash
on crumbling roof.
against storm cloud,
moving through the sky.
you are unlike
the other birds—
calling dark heart,
damp wood
to mind.

Photo by Maria Mekht on Unsplash
Long nights and
cold nights
linger lately
into day.
We are grateful
for the
bit of sun
and gentle air,
the slush
that wets our feet
on our walk.
It feels good
to be outside
with the birds.

Photo by Tiko Giorgadze on Unsplash

I think there must
be hope
for Earth
when I admire
the green farms
on the train
to Vienna.

So lush —
is this the color
of a dying planet?

Pretty things,
I remind myself —
they can be sick.

Carina Sitkus

Writer when I'm not reading: Also, amateur grandma:

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