sites.google.com
Christine Green
https://sites.google.com/site/christinegreenwrites/home
Read Christine's Blog: grownups are like that. Christine Green is a freelance writer in Brockport, NY. She also writes a Literary Arts column for Rochester's. Green hosts a monthly literary reading, Words on the Verge. At A Different Path Gallery. She grew up in San Jose, CA and holds a bachelor’s degree in anthropology from UC Berkeley and a master’s degree in historical archaeology from the College of William and Mary. She is also a 2016 Pink Door Literary Fellow. Photo by Images by Courtney.
cribchronicles.com
out, out brief candle | cribchronicles.com
http://cribchronicles.com/2012/06/15/out-out-brief-candle
I will NOT scribble on the children. Fri 15 Jun 2012. Out, out brief candle. Posted by bon under coping stuff. Social media meta stuff. Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,. That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,. And then is heard no more. It is a tale. Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,. Act 5, Scene 5. It doesn’t matter, of course. It is only a website and if i am not here it is not the end of the world. i tell myself this. I look around and wonder if i am my own set of ants.
motherly-musings.com
Motherly Musings: Mother's Day Reading & Book Signing
http://www.motherly-musings.com/2012/04/please-join-lift-shop-and-contributors.html
Thirty Women and Men Reflect on the Roller Coaster Ride that Is Motherhood. Mother's Day Reading and Book Signing. Please join Lift Bridge Book Shop. And contributors from Motherly Musings for a . Mother's Day Reading and Book Signing. Featuring work by Caurie Putnum. When: Saturday May 5th, 2012. Where: Lift Bridge Book Shop. 45 Main St., Brockport, NY. For more info email chrissygreenny (at) gmail.com or motherhood2009 (at) yahoo.com. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
cribchronicles.com
all the best things she said | cribchronicles.com
http://cribchronicles.com/2012/02/07/all-the-best-things-she-said
I will NOT scribble on the children. Tue 7 Feb 2012. All the best things she said. Posted by bon under coping stuff. The day after. Susan’s gone. I dreamed about her yesterday morning. we were some kind of Thelma and Louise, secret agents laughing, doing vague, crazy dream-things until little feet woke me at 5:45 am and i rose blurry from the fog and i wondered. And then i waited – edgy and wrong – all day, and then i heard. And then your heart swells up and leaks out your eyes. This is my first real exp...
cribchronicles.com
bodies at rest, or why i keep on keeping on | cribchronicles.com
http://cribchronicles.com/2012/03/21/bodies-at-rest-or-why-i-keep-on-keeping-on
I will NOT scribble on the children. Wed 21 Mar 2012. Bodies at rest, or why i keep on keeping on. Posted by bon under pondering stuff. Social media meta stuff. For almost six years now, i’ve written here. at least a few posts every month. sometimes, in the heady old days, twelve or more. but always a few. I kept going because i was afraid if i stopped, i’d stay stopped. Photo courtesy of vvanhee. Old identities trap us, in a sense, like flies in amber. If i stopped, who would i be? What would i miss?
sarahpiazza.org
Genesis | Sarah Piazza
https://sarahpiazza.org/2012/09/15/genesis
Middot; by Sarah Piazza. In the beginning there was a leaf, red, orange, or yellow. Or perhaps it was red, orange,. Yellow. Why not? And the leaf fluttered across one pane of the brilliant September sky. In this roundabout way it descended. Doing its dreamy dance it reached a patch of grass. When it arrived and settled on the grass, the light had already been divided from the darkness, and we may say that the leaf fell into the light. But it could have been otherwise and made no difference. In the beginn...
sarahpiazza.org
The Formative Days | Sarah Piazza
https://sarahpiazza.org/2012/09/11/the-formative-days
Middot; by Sarah Piazza. 8220;Darling, I don’t want to worry you,” she said. Could one inspire any more worry than by uttering a sentence like that? I let my fingers drift idly over my belly, my cantaloupe belly, firm and round with Ten. I was seven months pregnant. By the time Ten was born, my mother had undergone two surgeries and was well into a course of radiation therapy. She survived her cancer. But barely. And life for her, for me, too? It would never be the same. 8221; she exclaimed. Ten minutes ...
SOCIAL ENGAGEMENT