Two more of my poems have been added to the Academy of American Poets database. I'm deeply honored be in such esteemed company.

Hive Minds

Hive Minds - Riding in the car with my mother, I never graduated from the back seat to the front.

The Cliffs Above Oswald

The Cliffs Above Oswald - New fronds unfurl from the joints

Last night, I asked Collin to see his holiday light sketchbook, where he's supposedly been keeping detailed ideas for potential displays all year. I bought some metallic star stickers to mark the designs I approved. It was my idea for him to maintain the sketchbook, and—if I do say so myself—an excellent one. Well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. Every page was blank. Fifth year in a row. So I guess it's back to a strobe light on the lawn and an airhorn hooked up to a motion detector. Like we're friggin' animals.

I'd like something like this, but with light-up animatronic Yodas, birds and mushrooms instead of the baby Jesus. 

[Gulp] Here's an excerpt from the memoir I've been working on! First time it's ever seen sunlight or felt the caress of strangers' eyes! Thanks again, The Inquisitive Eater and Laura Cronk, for having me.

Poet of the Month: 'Culinary Memoirs of a Non-Chef,' by Jennifer L. Knox

"What are you writing these days?" my old friend asks, not looking up from her 12 dollar taco. We have not seen each other in years, only emailing occasionally to vent. In my case: about work. Sometimes I swear I'm going to have a heart attack, there's so much work to do, but the older I get, the more work I create for myself.

The third installment for my Poet of the Month gig at The Inquisitive Eater from The New School. This one's for you, Big Bobby Bergland! Thanks again for having me, Laura Cronk!

Poet of the Month: 'The Visitors,' by Jennifer L. Knox

Jen, come look at this. What is that? A woodpecker. That thing's huge-like a raccoon! Why's it on the ground? Grubs. What is it with the grubs? * So that bird we saw this morning was really a northern flicker. How'd you find out? I Google-imaged "woodpeckers." Flickers are in the woodpecker family.

And it's all true. Those folks know how to eat. Thanks, again, Laura!

Poet of the Month: 'Yogyakarta,' by Jennifer L. Knox

In the first hotel, an icky river of ants moving under the black wool blanket. In the houses, ceilings were low and the windows small-inside anywhere was always dark. Hawkers in the market needed lamps in their stalls by noon, but not when the light was more even, like dawn.

Poetry

100! after Josef Albers I am trying to convey the big emotions-ecstasy, doom. I am looking at neither the wall nor the red bowl awash with intention, crushed berries, euphoria, that plush stain. It is a meditation. Color shakes itself from the canvas, the canvas from its wooden frame.

I love The Journal, and I'm so happy this poem found in its new issue. It was inspired by this episode of Criminal: A Podcast

I'm honored to be the Poet of the Month at The Inquisitive Eater, The New School's food mag. The first piece up is a love poem to my get-er-done man. They'll be posting other food/environmental poems, as well as an excerpt from the culinary memoir I've been working on (!) Thanks so much, Laura Cronk, for thinking of me!

Poet of the Month: 'Field Guide Acknowledgements,' by Jennifer L. Knox

Some plants' names just came to me like that! Even in Latin: "Worry Wartius!" You're getting smarter, I assured myself in the hotel pool. I was proud of myself: it's hard to swim and think at the same time. But soon other names stopped sticking to the chalkboard.

The Red Lady of El Mirón. Died: about 18,700 years ago. Found in her teeth: mushroom spores.

Our weekend at the Mycelium Mysteries Women's Mushroom Retreat was MIND BLOWING. And not because we ate the magic kind. Thank you, Midwest Women's Herbal Conference, for cultivating this incredible network of goddesses, mycophiles, healers, teachers, and learners. 

Below is the list of spices we used. I'll be posting my shitake soup recipes here soon! 

I'm so happy this poem found a great home at SWWIM! Thank you, Catherine Esposito Prescott, for thinking of me, and especially Marisol, the world's greatest bikini waxer at Elan Salon and Day Spa: you SHOULD be President!

Women Writers | Miami | SWWIM

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