Author Archives: Risa Denenberg

Thoughts on work

From my blog, February 2008: Working takes things that I have no right to give and can’t really live without. I have to get this right at some point. I am longing to re-discover a place that I have at … Continue reading

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Equanimity and the garden

I’ve been hoarding this for a full week, since 5/13/11. Yet for every Friday the 13th, there comes a Friday the 20th. I’ve told almost no one, signifying my residual tendency to feel shame and blame for failures that aren’t … Continue reading

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The Winner is …

I want to thank all 29 poetry lovers who stopped by my blog and entered the Big Poetry Giveaway.  I numbered the posters and used a random number generator to come up with the WINNER! But before you learn the … Continue reading

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Don’t forget to click on NaPoMo

https://risaden.wordpress.com/napomo/ as if you didn’t already have enough to do!

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NaPoMo

For the second year, I am posting a poem a day at the Gazebo, the workshop where I have posted poems and read/commented on others’ poems for some years now. It’s a fabulous site with serious poets and lots of good … Continue reading

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Big poetry giveaway

Kelli Russell Agodon, over at her blog, The Book of Kells, is hosting a poetry giveaway during National Poetry Month, which on the West Coast, starts in about 3 hours. I love the idea, so I’ve decided to participate. This … Continue reading

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Back to dying …

I have returned to the work I love, tending to the living as they consider or fail to consider the experience of dying and the reality of death. I feel at home again. And, as if in a gesture of … Continue reading

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I’ve traced the blueprint of us
onto a map of five boroughs.
I’ve changed the street names.
I’m trying to show you
where we are. Continue reading

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Travelogue

2/18/11 Flight from Seattle to Boston I traveled from West to East coast to spend some time with people who are important to me. I left the Northeast 2½ years ago to take a job in Seattle, and am preparing … Continue reading

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Ode to morning pain

You live within its winnowing circle. “a dead baby in my cough” “a vaulting pole crushed within my spine” “scalding bits of broken glass inside my knee” “electric shocks delivered with a branding iron” “incompatible with having a self” “like nothing … Continue reading

Posted in human suffering, poetry stuff | 1 Comment