Most of you know me from my blog, “a moon, worn as if it had been a shell,” a line which happens to be from a Yeats poem and a rather cumbersome title for a blog, but it was 2008 when I started blogging and who knew anything about anything back then? This is a place where poetry, politics, disability and parenting a now-adult daughter with severe disabilities intersect, in no particular order. I write about the peculiar way my tiny little mother mind™ works, about the sun coming through my dining room windows, the dark early hours of the morning, the way my daughter stares at the ocean, the books I read, the absurdity of our healthcare system, terrible america and the ways women’s voices have been hushed. I read in bed, a trail of the unread winds through my house. Books everywhere.

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This is a place where poetry, politics, caregiving, disability and the ocean intersect with the body. That body is mine and yours.


I read in bed, and I'm not patriotic.