Carrie E Penrod

Can we go back to Covid’s 6 ft. rule? Some of y’all stand too damn close in the checkout.

I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive working in the news industry for the next four years. Especially living in Indiana. I’m just going to put everything under the headline: “It’s all bad”

My strong chicory coffee was too aesthetically pleasing to not share

Context for the debilitating sadness: I was supposed to help my mother shower the day she had her strokes. She died five days later and I never got to help her.

It’s 1 a.m., I’m reading poetry so I can create poetry. Joy Harjo, specifically. I’ve reached her poem “Washing My Mother’s Body” and now I am incredibly sad.

Honored to be a part of the newest issue of Hive Avenue!

I’m sure Kipling is looking up at us enjoying Taylor Holmes preforming “Boots.”

Column out tomorrow titled “The circus-act finger-story of Thanksgiving.” Good to know cutting the tip of my middle finger off as a child is good for something… besides traumatizing children so they don’t play with sharp objects.

Hard to believe it’s been two years since “This Kiss” was published in Peregrine.

Killed a wasp with a tarot deck this morning. Pretty sure that’s some kind of significance. Or a poem.

I’m just going to continue to listen to The View Between Villages and try and ignore my problems. Like an adult.

Question to my writer people: Does anyone know what happened to Prometheus Dreaming? Went to visit an old poem and they appear to have disappeared.

My most recent publication is up at LIT. I’m not sure I’ve ever written about my anxiety so clearly before.