Erin Coughlin Hollowell
I dreamt last night that I was conducting a university-level poetry class on an open lawn to a large number of students. The dean and my father were there. But I was so far from the students that they couldn’t … Continued
For some people, the story of resurrection begins with a cross. For me, it begins with song. Yesterday morning, walking the dog beneath a grey sky, collar turned up against a chill breeze, I heard the first calls of the … Continued
What handholds have you? When all around you there is difficulty – some of the season, some of the cycle, some of the seemingly endless pandemic, some of the suffering of others, some of the suffering of ourselves? I have … Continued
I am not ashamed to admit that I have a large personal library of poetry collections. Because poetry books have narrow spines making them hard to identify at a distance, I keep them in meticulous alphabetical order by poet’s last … Continued
The body is always talking to us. This week, for me, included a recurring cricopharyngeal spasm – or in other words, a cramp in one of the muscles of my pharynx, typified in my case by the feeling of a … Continued
