Newspaper + Marker = Poetry. Buy the book.
I can’t seem to finish one of these things, so for now, I’ll just keep stringing together these little haiku cop outs.
We’re having a great weekend: I hope you are too.
Terrible cleanup of a digital photo. I’m sunburnt and full of soft shell crab and beer. What do you expect?
I also want to note that this article was a review of Paula Abdul’s new reality show, “Hey, Paula.” Just throwing that out there.
I’ve been carrying this clipping with me for a while now, and finally finished it this morning at the beach (I obviously didn’t have a Sharpie with me).
Okay. Can’t stay on the internet too long when the weather is so beautiful. Off to get our fixin’s for the shrimp boil tonight!
I’ve often found that the more you take away, the better your writing gets.
Let’s put it to the test: vote for your favorite in the comments.
Our lease was up in July, so Meg and I moved into her parents’ house to save a month’s rent for our upcoming move. We’re leaving a ton of our furniture in Cleveland, and we’ve outfitted Meg’s old room as a guest suite. As a result, I have one of the nicest workspaces ever — my blue desk now looks out onto the lovely woods, with the birds chirping.
They also have an NYTimes subscription, so you might see more blackout poems as the month progresses.