Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST November 10th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem Fourth Wall Arpeggio” by A. Van Jordan, posted below.

Our prompt was: โ€œWrite about love’s austere and lonely offices.โ€

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday November 17th at 12pm EST, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.


 "Fourth Wall Arpeggio" by A. Van Jordan

Lately, my friends ask me, out of love,
have I written about my mother,
who suffers under the storm of Alzheimerโ€™s disease,
and I tell them, โ€œI donโ€™t write about my family,
never directly, at least.โ€ To write this poem seems so

out of character for me, but itโ€™s not about my mother,
as much as itโ€™s about how, as a son, the disease
measures the changing rituals of family.
And 28 linesโ€”all Iโ€™ve provided myselfโ€”seems so
anemic. Now, I barely have 18 lines left for a love

I donโ€™t have the vigor to describe. Reticence is a disease
Iโ€™ve suffered from throughout my life. Without family,
I donโ€™t know what it means to live as myself, and, so,
I hide in the reflection of others, which, after all, others love:
people care more about themselves than a friendโ€™s mother.

I mean, how does one explain to someone whoโ€™s not family
how you now see the patterns into which a parent would sew
a quilt to lay over a child, the child neither hip to love
nor Haydenโ€™s โ€œaustere and lonely officesโ€? My motherโ€™s
silence seems like indifference except I know the disease,

which changes our relationship, the parent and child; I sow
healing from my memory of how she taught me to love,
not knowing her movement through a day as a mother,
as someone whose sole gig was to keep me alive, free of disease
and, whenever possible, embarrassment. But now, family

means playing the parent; Iโ€™m still just a son, writing about love,
but, lowering my eyes from the trauma, I lift her body, her disease,
for a shower, straining under all the love she sowed.

Source: Poetry (November 2023)

Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT October 30th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem “Crows” by Mary Oliver, posted below.

Our prompt was: โ€œWrite an equation for your morning.โ€

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday November 10th at 12pm EST, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.


 "Crows" by Mary Oliver

In Japan, in Seattle, In Indonesiaโ€”there they wereโ€”
each one loud and hungry,
crossing a field, or sitting
above the traffic, or dropping
ย 
to the lawn of some temple to sun itself
or walk about on strong legs,
like a landlord. I think
they donโ€™t envy anyone or anythingโ€”
ย 
not the tiger, not the emperor
not even the philosopher.
Why should they?
The wind is their friend, the least tree is home. 
ย 
Nor is melody, they have discovered, necessary
Nor have they delicate palates;
without hesitation they will eat
anything you can think ofโ€”
ย 
corn, mice, old hamburgersโ€”
swallowing with such hollering and gusto
no one can tell whether it is a brag
or a prayer of deepest thanks. At sunrise, when I walk out,

I see them in trees, or on ledges of buildings,
 as cheerful as saints, or thieves of the small job
who have been, one more night, successfulโ€”
and like all successes, it turns my thoughts to myself.

Should I have led a more simple life?
Have my ambitions been worthy?
Has the wind, for years, been talking to me as well?
Somewhere, among all my thoughts, there is a narrow path.
ย 
Itโ€™s attractive, but who could follow it?
Slowly the full morning
draws over us its mysterious and lovely equation.
Then, in the branches poling from their dark center,
ย 
ever more flexible and bright,
sparks from the sun are bursting and melting on the birdsโ€™ wings
as, indifferent and comfortable,
they lounge, they squabble in the vast, rose-colored light. 

Credit: Mary Oliver

Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT October 23rd 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we viewed the painting Flight of the Swallows” by John Henry Lorimer, posted below.

Our prompt was: โ€œThe others were so excited but Iโ€ฆโ€ 

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday October 30th at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.


The Flight of the Swallows – John Henry Lorimer (1856โ€“1936)


Encuentros virtuales en vivo: Sรกbado 21 de octubre, 13:00 EDT

Seis participantes se reunieron desde Espaรฑa, Argentina y EEUU.

Leรญmos el poema โ€œEl amor despuรฉs de amorโ€, de Derek Walcott, traducido por Alex Jadad.

El debate sobre el poema fue muy enriquecedor. En su transcurso aparecieron mรบltiples perspectivas y significados, que ademรกs se iban construyendo ante las aportaciones de los demรกs. Hablamos de las disonancias que nos provocaba el poema, de su belleza, de los tiempos y las personas que aparecen explรญcita o implรญcitamente. Se destacaron algunas imรกgenes, como las del espejo y la del festรญn, por todo lo que significan en la vida: verse a sรญ mismo desde la perspectiva de otros, celebrar saber quiรฉn eres. El poema es complejo, difรญcil y a la vez muy resonante.

La propuesta de escritura fue, โ€œEscrรญbete una cartaโ€. Compartimos los textos escritos, destacando la dificultad de escribirse a uno mismo. Surgieron diferentes perspectivas: la carta a uno mismo, a lo que fuimos, a los queremos ser, a lo que somos. 

Aquรญ, ahora alentamos a los participantes que, si asรญ lo desean, compartan lo que escribieron a continuaciรณn. Deja tu respuesta aquรญ, si deseas continuar la conversaciรณn sobre el poema de Derek Walcott. Pero antes, les recomendamos tener en cuenta que el blog es un espacio pรบblico donde, por supuesto, no se garantiza la confidencialidad.

Por favor, รบnase a nosotros en nuestra prรณxima sesiรณn en espaรฑol: El sรกbado 18 noviembre a las 13 hrs. o a la 1 pm EST. Tambiรฉn, ofrecemos sesiones en inglรฉs. Ve a nuestra pรกgina de sesiones grupales virtuales.

ยกEsperamos verte pronto!


“El Amor Despuรฉs del Amor por Derek Walcott, Traducciรณn: Alex Jadad.”

Llegarรก el dรญa
en que, exultante,
te vas a saludar a ti mismo al llegar
a tu propia puerta, en tu propio espejo,
y cada uno sonreirรก a la bienvenida del otro,
y dirรก: Siรฉntate aquรญ. Come.
Otra vez amarรกs al extraรฑo que fuiste para ti.
Dale vino. Dale pan. Devuรฉlvele el corazรณn
a tu corazรณn, a ese extraรฑo que te ha amado
toda tu vida, a quien ignoraste
por otro, y que te conoce de memoria.
Baja las cartas de amor de los estantes,
las fotos, las notas desesperadas,
arranca tu propia imagen del espejo.
Siรฉntate. Haz con tu vida un festรญn.


Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EDT October 20th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem Sorrow Is Not My Name” by Ross Gay, posted below.

Our prompt was: โ€œWrite about what keeps you from sorrow.โ€

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday October 23rd at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.


"Sorrow Is Not My Name" by Ross Gay

       โ€”after Gwendolyn Brooks

No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color's green. I'm spring.

      โ€”for Walter Aikens

Copyright ยฉ 2011 by Ross Gay. 
Source: Bringing the Shovel Down (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2011)

Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EDT October 6th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem “Finale” by Pablo Neruda, posted below.

Our prompt was:ย โ€œWrite about a sea of renewal.โ€

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday October 20th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on ourย Live Virtual Group Sessions.


"Finale" by Pablo Neruda

Matilde, years or days
sleeping, feverish,ย 
here or there,
gazing off,
twisting my spine,ย ย ย 
bleeding true blood,ย ย ย 
perhaps I awaken
or am lost, sleeping:
hospital beds, foreign windows,
white uniforms of the silent walkers,
the clumsiness of feet.

And then, these journeysย ย ย 
and my sea of renewal:ย ย ย 
your head on the pillow,ย ย ย 
your hands floating
in the light, in my light,ย ย ย 
over my earth.
It was beautiful to liveย ย ย 
when you lived!

The world is bluer and of the earthย ย ย 
at night, when I sleep
enormous, within your small hands.

Source: The Sea and the Bells (City Lights Books, 2002)

Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT September 18th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem “Love After Love ” by Derek Walcott, posted below.

Our prompt was: โ€œWrite about finding yourself (again).โ€

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday October 6th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on ourย Live Virtual Group Sessions.


“Love After Love ” by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the otherโ€™s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

credit: all poetry.com


Encuentros virtuales en vivo: Sรกbado 16 de septiembre, 13:00 EDT

El enfoque de esta sesiรณn es la pintura โ€œLos Mรบsicosโ€, de Fernando Botero, pintor colombiano.

Cinco participantes se reunieron desde Espaรฑa, Argentina, y EEUU.

Elegimos esta pintura porque Fernando Botero muriรณ el 15 de septiembre. Lo primero que se nota es que al pintor siempre le gustรณ el gran volumen y que aquรญ hay uniformidad del color. Los mรบsicos se parecen tanto que parecen parientes. Siempre este pintor elige pintar cuerpos grandes. Como eligiรณ pintar las personas, son mรกs importantes los cuerpos que los instrumentos. Las cerraduras son demasiadas pequeรฑas para salir sonido. La chica es bajita y hay un seรฑor aรบn mรกs bajito. Los instrumentos ocultan unos de los cuerpos. Parece una orquestra de pueblo, pero tienen instrumentos de viento complejos (como el que parece un fagot).

Un participante pregunto ยฟporque hay un pรกjaro y una fruta? ยฟPorque pintar las personas tan realistas pero los instrumentos cรณmicos? El contraste del volumen de los cuerpos y de los agujeros diminutos de los instrumentos; la mรบsica no podrรญa salir.

Alguien mencionรณ que no hay espacio ni aire entre los cuerpos ni los instrumentos. En varias entrevistas el pintor dijo que รฉl no pintaba figuras voluminosas. ร‰l se referรญa a sus obras como โ€œformas realistasโ€ y que el arte debe dar placer. 

La propuesta de escritura fue, โ€œEscribe sobre aquella mรบsicaโ€. Las escrituras cubrieron recuerdos de tango y niรฑez, un recuerdo que inicio para un participante la escritura de un soneto, momentos bellos y reflexivos de niรฑez, y lo esencial que es la mรบsica para otra participante.

Aquรญ, ahora alentamos a los participantes que, si asรญ lo desean, compartan lo que escribieron a continuaciรณn.ย Deja tu respuesta aquรญ, si deseas continuar la conversaciรณn sobre la pinturaย deย Fernando Botero.ย Pero antes, les recomendamos tener en cuenta que el blog es un espacio pรบblico donde, por supuesto, no se garantiza la confidencialidad.

Por favor, รบnase a nosotros en nuestra prรณxima sesiรณn en espaรฑol: Elย sรกbado 21 de octubre a las 13 hrs. o a la 1 pm EDT. Tambiรฉn, ofrecemos sesiones en inglรฉs. Ve aย nuestra pรกgina deย sesiones grupales virtuales en vivo.

ยกEsperamos verte pronto!


โ€œLos Mรบsicosโ€, de Fernando Botero


Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EDT September 15th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we took a close look at the painting Self-portrait on the Border Line Between Mexico and the United States, 1932” by Frida Kahlo, posted below.

Our prompt was:ย โ€œWrite about inhabiting two worlds.โ€

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday September 18th at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.


Self-portrait on the Border Line Between Mexico and the United States, 1932” by Frida Kahlo

ยฉ Banco de Mรฉxico Diego Rivera Frida Kahlo Museums Trust, Mexico, D.F./Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York


Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT September 11th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read an excerpt “Knoxville: Summer 1915ย ” from A Death in the Family by James Agee, posted below.

Our prompt was: โ€œWrite about what enchants your ears.โ€

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday September 15th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.


“Knoxville: Summer 1915ย ” from A Death in the Family by James Agee

Now is the night one blue dew, my father has drained, he has coiled the hose. 

Low on the length of lawns, a frailing of fire who breathes. 

Content, silver, like peeps of light, each cricket makes his comment 

  over and over in the drowned grass. 

A cold toad thumpily flounders. 

Within the edges of damp shadows of side yards are hovering children 

  nearly sick with joy of fear, who watch the unguarding of a telephone pole. 

Around white carbon corner lamps bugs of all sizes are lifted elliptic, 

  solar systems. Big hardshells bruise themselves, assailant: he is fallen on his back, legs squiggling. 

Parents on porches: rock and rock: From damp strings morning glories: 

  hang their ancient faces. 

The dry and exalted noise of the locusts from all the air at once enchants my eardrums.