Tag Archives: art

Meto-things: What’s Up


Here is where things are at: 1 My partner in all things of art and life, David L. White, has three poems up at The Knicknackery, “Low Tide”, “Crochet”, and “At Oven’s Door”, which I can’t even read because it breaks me. Intensity. I … Continue reading

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Prompt-a-thon, with Pictures


I have learned something valuable: Prompts are well liked. I guess I get a little frustrated with prompt-driven writing because it was so much a part of the public school classroom. I, the student me, hated grade school (and everything … Continue reading

Posted in art, creative process, creative writing, creativity, fiction, flash fiction, imagery, inspiration, process, Prompts, rawboned, stories, symbolism, vision, writers, writing, Writing prompts | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Prompt-a-thon


Whoever came up with the abhorrent idea that January first is invigorating? Post-holidays, I am not invigorated, I’m exhausted. Resolution is not in the air. Days are dark, dreamy. Nights feel right cozied up with family. Mornings feel like a … Continue reading

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Ceremony


Consider this conversation I had with my nine year old today: “I need some stuff so I can write a letter to my cousins.” “That’s a great idea. What do you need?” “Pajamas, purple ink pens, lined paper, a cup … Continue reading

Posted in Advice, art, artist, bad advice, ceremony, creative process, creative writing, creativity, inspiration, motherhood, parenting, Pema Chodron, Uncategorized, writers, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Where O Where Has Metopen Been?


Well, who knew a blog could induce such a sense of obligation? I regret my absence of new posts for the last two weeks, but I was kind of busy. For the last few weeks, my household has been on … Continue reading

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New Erasures


When a blog format changes, it’s something like coming home to find your partner has traded the dog for a kangaroo. No, I’m off on that. Dogs and kangaroos are more similar than the old gallery format and the new gallery … Continue reading

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1,000 Days


“When do friends stop holding hands?”  My second-grader’s teacher—or maybe it was the librarian or a classroom aide, someone—had innocently admonished several girls, walking along holding hands, to enjoy it while they could. “The time’s coming,” she reportedly told them, … Continue reading

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