Popsicle Days
A Vignette
Maryann Lawrence
Mostly poetry, some essays, a tad of humor and the meandering mind of a 50-something trying to fit into her skin.
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Latest posts
How to Quit a Book
It is 9pm and I am about 130 pages into John Updike’s most famous work, Rabbit, Run.
Cold, cold
This is a lovely view she says in a voice
Backyard Astronomer
a poem
A Delicacy
if I captured every breath in my hand and parceled them out through my fingertips so that you could savor each one; if I let them seep through, let them run down my hands like melting ice cream in a cone would you then begin to understand how sweet to comprehend how rare would you then begin to savor them to cherish each morsel for its singular currency or would you devour them in one sitting let…
To know me
a poem
It's June, Thank God!
Hello Dear Readers,
Where Things Stand
Analyis: 2026
Everybody Knows Hairam
a poem
Home Fires
There are flies on the wall. Fly paper you joke – unfunnily. (Is that a word?) They are listening to our pack of lies. The unpacking you spit – sardonically. (Real word, check,) and check your words. Speak them slowly don’t spit. The flies were just the beginning, you say. There were fire ants later to set the house ablaze. But that was a lie too. Just sugar ants eating up all the sweetness. The…