My husband and I have slowly replaced all of our loudly ticking wall clocks with silent ones. The announcement of quickly passing seconds was freaking me out. We all have too much to do, between family life, working and chores, not to mention trying to find time to...
Sunday’s paper brought news of one of the first Olympic gold wins in Sochi for the Americans, a victory for snowboarder Sage Kotsenburg. After a self-proclaimed “megadrought” of wins for the 20 year-old, he “kept it weird,” and impressed the judges. Afterwards, he...
After a snowstorm drops a foot or more of snow in our rural neighborhood, I strap on snowshoes and go for a “shoe.” I set out to break trail and see what I can see in our 14-acre woodlot. Often this trek leads me to an old logging road. It twists and turns up the side...
ISSUE 4 – MOTHERS: This issue of Minerva Rising is a powerful tribute to the connection we feel to our mothers and our children. Each story, poem, essay, and picture is a testimony to the influence these relationships have on our creativity. In “Cyberattack,”...
Reviewed by Lindsey Grudnicki In her debut collection of short fiction, Vanessa Blakeslee offers a frank look at the defining trials – from the small inconveniences to the traumatic, inescapable events – of human life. Through eleven skillfully-written portraits, she...
Here is how I know for sure that my maker is a woman and one with a wicked sense of humor. Girlfriend saw fit to match me – the wordiest of wordy women – with my mate…surely the most indifferent, heedless, hapless, (okay, I’ll say it) unskilled communicator who ever...
I don’t hate writing. Actually, I love writing, in fact, I love it so much it feels self-indulgent to call it work. That’s when it’s going well. When it flows from the end of my fingers, onto the screen or off the tip of my pen onto the page in exactly the way I...
There’s a wind blowing through the countryside here in southern Mexico. Red, orange, yellow, blue, white, purple and pink tissue paper flags flutter from the overhang that covers the patio of the casita where I live. Patterns of doves, flower baskets, sun, moon,...
Outside our New York house today everything I see is covered in water. Hard, white water. Snow. But outside our Los Angeles house – our tenant tells us – a dusting of ash, fine, almost invisible ash, covers everything. Because of the fires, because of the...
“Some mommies are ranchers, or poetry makers Or doctors or teachers, or cleaners or bakers Some mommies drive taxis, or sing on TV” -“Parents are People,” lyrics by Harry Belafonte and Marlo Thomas I’m a “poetry maker” mommy. And that means, for better or...
