by Katharine Kaufman | Sep 24, 2019 | today
In 2001 Thanksgiving Day Steve and I drive East on 66. I was nervous to meet Steve’s Aunts and uncle and cousins, and nieces and their close friends. So we drive down the road and listen to all of Alice’s restaurant on the radio first. I carry my bowl of...
by Katharine Kaufman | Sep 4, 2019 | today
Holding a space for writing is similar to teaching choreography and improvisation. I have the luxury of no syllabus. I lie in bed the morning of the class and imagine each person. I think of their writing styles and desires. I think of what we have been working on,...
by Katharine Kaufman | Aug 21, 2019 | today
Ordinary life fits the absolute as a box and its lid. The absolute works together with the relative like two arrows meeting in mid-air. * Sandokai Harmony of Difference and Sameness by Shitou Xiqian ...
by Katharine Kaufman | Jul 2, 2019 | today
When you make a poem, you become an active soul, not a victim. ~ Gregory Orr Driving up the thin dirt road above Jamestown to Jo and Glenn’s house I hug the land side. And then I can’t really hug the land side as my tires fit into tracks. Part of the road...
by Katharine Kaufman | May 21, 2019 | today
Sometimes I am sitting in a chair with my mouth open, and someone I barely know is yanking at my tooth. Sometimes I move freely about the kitchen, watching almond milk move in small heaps and bubbles. I cut lilacs from the neighbor’s yard. I tell...