I wrote this in fifth grade, after I read Jack London's story "To Build a Fire." It's a poetic rewriting of the story, leaving out the crucial gross part. A couple of years later, when I was in seventh grade, my Mom signed me up for a writer's workshop one Saturday morning down at the Women's Community Center in Ithaca (New York). The other poets were, of course, middle-aged women. We sat in a circle and shared our poems. Some of the women read lesbian love poetry, comparing their lovers to the sea and themselves to the shore. I, a little red-headed twelve-year old, read my "To Build a Fire" poem. The women graciously gave me a standing ovation. I was on my way to becoming a poet!
"To Build a Fire"
Cold and dreary, weak and weary
I roam the frozen North,
To and fro the wind does blow
As slowly I trudge forth.
Day and night, I try to light
A warm and blazing fire:
It goes out, in vain I shout,
And then I start to tire.
It’s eighty below and the freezing snow
Is drifting all around me.
Without a sound, I fall to the ground:
Death has finally found me.
Two of my very brief essays were published online this summer. The first was the essay " Telephone ," which appeared in June in t...
I'm extremely honored to have been chosen as Northfield, Minnesota's first Poet Laureate. You can read more about the appointment i...
Aeschylus’s Oresteia , originally performed in 458 BCE, is the only surviving dramatic trilogy from classical Athens. The trilogy takes ...
My essay " Bee Line: How the Honey Bee Defined the American Frontier " has been published in the online journal Readings. The ess...