Words on Writing, Part Five
We are brilliant enough machines that we can sense when something is genuine. — Michael Stipe Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just...
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Mark Pomeroy
Oct 6, 2023
Some Seeds of The Tigers of Lents
In the spring of 2011, I was the last writer-in-residence at Marshall High School in Lents, a neighborhood in outer Southeast Portland. A...
Mark Pomeroy
Jun 7, 2023
New Novel
Next year, University of Iowa Press will publish my second novel, The Tigers of Lents, which I worked on over the course of twelve years....
Mark Pomeroy
Mar 2, 2023
Our Lives in the Real World
For twenty-eight years I’ve led creative writing workshops in public schools, and over that time I’ve witnessed, in classrooms, the...
Mark Pomeroy
Sep 16, 2022
Stubborn Hope
Yesterday a neighbor cycled by as I was watering the trees. He stopped and we chatted for a while, and at length he mentioned the rising...
Mark Pomeroy
May 31, 2022
Words on Writing, Part Four
Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way. — E.L....
Mark Pomeroy
Feb 17, 2022
Harrison
Jim Harrison’s poems often pierce me. He wrote with a clarity and bravery that cut to the Shimmering Center. Whenever I bring some of his...
Mark Pomeroy
Oct 27, 2021
Way Stations
Once a month I meet two friends for dinner. We pick a different place each time. I’ll call these guys Theo and Mac. This past Sunday,...
Mark Pomeroy
Apr 15, 2021
The Best in Us
My son broke his wrist. We were skiing on Mount Hood, not far from Timberline Lodge. It was sunny and still cold just after lunch. I’d...
Mark Pomeroy
Jan 10, 2021
We Keep Working
When delusions and lies spread across the land, we remain true to evidence. We vote on our ballots, and we vote through the daily doings...
Mark Pomeroy
Aug 28, 2020
Flow
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. - Annie Dillard We set out up the dry canyon, eyeing the mountain. A clear...
Mark Pomeroy
Jun 7, 2020
He Has a Name, He Has a Story
He’s a senior in high school, he’s black, and he works at Chipotle four evenings a week. He chops lettuce and tomatoes, grills steak. He...
Mark Pomeroy
Mar 22, 2020
Faith
This morning, as the dog and I walked after breakfast, the neighborhood streets were again quiet. Magnolia flowers ready to open. The...
Mark Pomeroy
Jan 30, 2020
Now
Here in Portland, Oregon, in January, the days are short, grey, and wet. More rain this year than last, my goodness. Rain almost every...
Mark Pomeroy
Oct 3, 2019
A Benediction of Goat Bells
Just finished writing a novel, after several years of work on it. Stacks of drafts surround this desk, the house is quiet, and after a...
Mark Pomeroy
Jul 10, 2019
Words on Writing, Part Three
I would advise anyone who aspires to a writing career that before developing his talent he would be wise to develop a thick hide. —...
Mark Pomeroy
Jun 9, 2019
Travelers
Summer in sight. Tomatoes on their way. Time to slow down some, and here this afternoon, time to think about a few places on this planet...
Mark Pomeroy
Apr 19, 2019
Letter to My Son
Yesterday morning your mom and I walked with you beside the Metolius River. We’ve taken you there since you were little and riding on my...
Mark Pomeroy
Feb 15, 2019
A Bear Story
Last night at dinner my son asked me, “When were you most scared?” “You mean, today?” “In your whole life.” We were eating pasta and...
Mark Pomeroy
Dec 11, 2018
Words on Writing, Part Two
Computers are useless — all they can give you are answers. — Picasso When I had no roof I made/Audacity my roof. — Robert Pinsky What his...
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