Yesterday I went in to sign my new lease. There was the woman who approved me for the apartment and we laughed (cackled, really) as she talked me through the thousand pages. The other employee came in and tactfully told her to get back to work. Still, the woman told me about her mom who... Continue Reading →
blog
a place of my own
For the last couple months, I have been looking for a place to live. This past year I lived in an apartment of divorce: it was in the air, lingering in the fibers of my couch, my carpet. The rent was was divorce-settlement high and always, I knew it was not a sustainable option. It... Continue Reading →
names like colors
"Mom, there are other people with my name," Brandon told me yesterday. "In books or on shows, I see other Brandons." So I told him names, like colors, get used again and and again. I told him a name is a word we assign to someone as if it is his own, although it isn't... Continue Reading →
the cold side of independence
It's been a year, almost, on my own like this. I wasn't prepared for how hard it would be. I remembered fondly living alone, after college, before marriage. And naively, maybe that's how I thought it would be again. That was when I held two jobs to cover rent and expenses. That was when I... Continue Reading →
hard pressed
On this day of rain and heft, I thought of this bike I saw on a run once, leaning against a tree, growing into its bark. Here now I lean into my desk, here it presses lines into my stomach. Here I press on in the rain, rust gathering at my hinges.
Q318 Songs
There is this lit journal that publishes writing about music which I want to submit to, but I just can't articulate exactly how much songs set my days, my intention. How do I describe the content I feel at the end of a day full of parenting and cleaning and trying, trying to write when... Continue Reading →
things that are important
Being the only one in my family who lives outside the city where we grew up together, I often feel guilty about missing out on the lives of my siblings and my parents. So I try as often as I can, to be a part of things that are important to them. When my brother... Continue Reading →
failure, but also, success.
I am teaching poetry workshops again, so last week I asked my students what they like to write about. "Failing," one girl said and I scribbled it down furiously, in both the ways I can mean that. We live in a society that focuses on the negative, on the ways we fail, on how we're... Continue Reading →
small good things
Here is a list of nice things people have done for me lately: After I had coffee with Margret, she insisted on giving me and Holden a tour of the remodeled Blair library where she also insisted on buying Holden some children books A colleague from a decade ago contacted me and told me single... Continue Reading →
Holden’s fuzz
On an airplane, Thursday, 8/23/18: The clouds, from above, look like Holden's fuzz. From up here, I can see how they clump and pull away and I think, there must be a poem in this. Maybe it's in how Holden lies on the couch pulling fuzz apart. Maybe it's in how he sits up and... Continue Reading →
holly pelesky 