Corin in September 2008

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Surviving your baby’s first year

parenting book review published in Catapult Magazine

Corin in May 2008

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Summer Vacation

No more pencils, no more books,
we chanted in glee,

the possibilities
a sun-drenched openness
in our chests.

When Will I Become?

A Life of the Ages song
lyrics by Steve Lansingh
music by Steve Lansingh & Amanda Caldwell


Download the mp3
Listen online at ReverbNation.com or below (track #9)





Official audio disclaimer/apology

The Delivery

Based on the painting Piazza d’Italia, by Giorgio de Chirico

They shook, and it was a done deal.
He would deliver the lion by train,
On a hot yellow evening
When the shadows stretched long
And the arches of the buildings
Kissed the windows, shuttered
Against the coming night.
The people prepared for the spectacle,
Flags waving gaily on the highest tower.


Plug: This poem was selected as a highlight poem by Robert Brewer! Huzzah!

Poem-a-Day Challenge — April 2008

Most of the following poems from April 2008 are the result of daily prompts from Robert Brewer through his blog Poetic Asides.

In honor of National Poetry Month, Robert hosted a Poem-a-Day Challenge so that participants would end up with thirty poems (or drafts of same) by the end of the month. I found it deliciously inspiring, and I'll present most of the poems here. Some I'm hiding due to privacy issues, and some because they're truly execrable. A poet has to have some sense of pride, right?

I've Become My Mother

essay published in Catapult Magazine

How to Give Great Gifts

article published in Catapult Magazine

My 13-year-old Little Woman Speaks to 23-year-old Me on Another Halloween

published in Catapult Magazine

original 10.16.2000

The Law of Love

A Life of the Ages song
lyrics by Steve Lansingh
music by Steve Lansingh & Amanda Caldwell


Download the mp3
Listen online at ReverbNation.com or below (track #8)





Official audio disclaimer/apology

Two Piece

My baby doesn't swim when I do,
an hour every Friday,
pushing myself off from the sides
while he (she?) floats,
weightless and silent.

Each night
I hypnotize my limbs,
let my thoughts rise like bubbles,
feel my body loose and limp,

and then the swimming of my baby begins,
dancing past my stillness.

This is not part of me.



You are a new self.

You will never stay
within the narrow ropes of my lane.
Disregarding my favorite games,
choosing unlikely teammates,
evading what I enjoy
and pursuing what I do not.
Darting past
my must-haves, my absolutes,
and turning back to laugh.

You will choose
and plan
and dream
and move,
swimmingly.



I don't need to cut the cord
to symbolize what I already know.
I have your constant beating fins
to kick it into me.

You will repel the lifeguards'
calls and cautions,
diving into the cold headfirst.

From placenta to milk to mothering,
you'll freestyle to and away,
surprising me with a splash,
to take what you need
and give what you choose.



Bare feet slapping the deck,
child's triumphant echoes to the ceiling,
chlorine sharp in your nose,
swim free from me,

from this pool out into the
wild, wide ocean.

I gladly slice the line holding you
and grant what is not mine to give —
yourself.