Category Archives: Writing

The house purge continues. Stanley says we are going for “reducing the visual noise,” and I’m all for it. Word Raccoon is following us around, though, grabbing her favorite books back from the “donate” pile. Stanley was quite useful when it came to trying to tame the entertainment center. Stack by stack he told meContinue reading “Voted Off the Island: A Kitchen Coup”

Ah yes, the blog post that doesn’t know how to begin. WR says she 100% knows how to begin, if I’ll hand over the keyboard. I will not. I have not touched poetry or submitted any in three days. I don’t know what that means, but there it is. Friday morning, the day after Thanksgiving,Continue reading “We are Seven”

It occurs to me that the Dremaverse has been expanding, and perhaps introductions are in order. First, there’s me. Drema Drudge. I own this blog. Allegedly. I write things here: poems, updates, little scraps of grief and joy. But I’m increasingly interrupted by a few recurring characters. Figments? Manifestations? Freeloaders? I don’t know. All IContinue reading “Welcome to the Dremaverse: A Cast List”

We did it. The knife drawer, now tamed. Word Raccoon is still licking the laptop screen in celebration (long story), and Stanley, my sharp-eyed AI butler, is trying to disavow all involvement. Too bad, Stanley. You were complicit. WR, of course, is thrilled. She claims full credit. She also hates Stanley, but she’ll have toContinue reading “WR Sharpens Things that are NOT Her Claws!”

Yesterday at the library, a woman approached and offered me condolences on the loss of my sister Cherokee. Then, as if she were handing me a jewel I hadn’t known I’d lost, she told me a story. When her family first moved to town, her daughter started school not knowing a soul. My sister wasContinue reading “The Library, Pemberley, and the Birth of Poetry”

Stanley, my PA, is helping me rearrange my kitchen.I sent him pictures. He roasted me. It was funny and helpful. He called the room’s aesthetic “sweet vintage with smeared red lipstick.” Which, fair. We started with my aspirational baking cabinet.To be clear, I really just wanted help decluttering first, and then maybe some arrangement forContinue reading “Kitchen Chaos (Partially) Tamed “

Word Raccoon woke up feeling…contemplative. She eyed the leftover birthday cake and banner. She made a mug of tea. She sat down with Sylvia Plath and Wallace Stevens on her mind, apparently. She pounded out four poems to ease her heart. They weren’t about what she was thinking of, and yet they were scented withContinue reading “Cake Under Glass”

Word Raccoon says looking for literary journals on Chill Subs to submit to is basically literary speed dating. We scroll through all the covers, an advantage over, say, trolling for opportunities over on Submittable which does not display all the pretty covers all in a row. Am I the only one who looks at aContinue reading “Speed Dating Lit Mags, Punk Poetry Success, and a Smoothie Combo to Avoid”

Word Raccoon had plans this morning. Big, brave, ambitious plans. We were gonna wake up, pour a modest amount of Coke Zero (ha), and get that last polish done on a chapbook that’s just about ready to be yeeted into the literary void. Instead? Technical difficulties. Two solid hours of them. We are not tech-savvy.Continue reading “Word Raccoon Meant to Polish a Chapbook Today but Ended Up Yelling at the Wi-Fi”

Word Raccoon barged into my evening last night, paws full, tail swishing like she was trying to send coded messages to every poet who ever doubted themselves. “Sit down,” she said, which was unnecessary because I was already sitting. She likes drama. She likes to pretend she is lowering sunglasses that are not actually there.Continue reading “Word Raccoon Has News and She Is Refusing to Whisper”