After long silence

Vincent finished first grade. Georgia, now nearly 15 months old, walks, dances, climbs, and orates in a cadence and vocabulary unique to her very self. Aidan is still finding his middle child way between big boy and baby.

It’s summertime and the living is chaos.

I haven’t just neglected you, little blog. Between my family, Collected Poets, Tupelo Press, and the new Tupelo Quarterly, well, I haven’t written a damn thing of my own in ages.

I need to reclaim some sort of writing schedule for myself back from the wilderness. If you’re still checking in here, thank you. May it soon be worth your time and attention.

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2 Comments

  1. I was wondering why you had not posted in such a long time—I was thinking of you yesterday–I was a sub at a tennis group in Kennebunk–One of my opponents was from Brockton–I asked him if he knew any of the Brockton Greene’s: Leo, David, but no I think he was too old—–he did know of Dave Goodal–another Brocktonite who is a friend of a friend and lives in nearby Arundel–He’s about your Brother’s age–maybe a little older.

    So glad to know that you are enjoying your family life with such robustness. I know you are super busy but A quick read you might enjoy: Christopher Hitchens–Memorial

  2. Thanks for writing this. Maybe we need to form a writing pact. I could just copy and paste this post into Pokey Mama because it’s the same in my world! It’s hard to live without nourishing our writing selves, isn’t it?

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