noon silent like midnight
as if they agreed to trade places
without telling me

streets shorn of cars
no honking here to break
the stillness of sun

songs discarded by birds
unwilling to spoil
my melancholy view

we are all of us here
alone

A response to this prompt:

A poet lived here
alone and free
singing longings loudly
like a lonely muse

A poet walked here
bravely and alive
fearless of dark nights and smoldering hopes
soothed by cold light sparked at dawn

A poet breathed here
fired words like smolten beings
untrussed and blown from the ash
of lesser sons

A poet spoke here once
wise-like and true
like a mother to a newborn —
I will not leave you nor forsake the others

A poet danced here
bones alive and clacking
demanding the audience witness the weight
of wondrously goaded words

A poet bore revelation here
unending rhyme repeating itself
in a demanding wish
to come…

Welcome to Just Ask Stacy, a sort of weekly advice column where you can ask about whatever you need help with (life, career, relationships, why Emily is in Paris, whatever), and I’ll answer because I’m ignoring the pile of work on my desk. I’d much rather be helping you sort out your life.

Here’s why I started doing this:

So let’s get to it, shall we?

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been sharing some resources with writers in varying stages of their careers and I want to share them with you. I’m not affiliated with any of these entities, nor will I receive any kind of compensation if you decide to click on them and look through the sites. …

Welcome to the second edition of Just Ask Stacy, a weekly advice column where you get to ask about whatever you need help with (life, career, laundry, dinner, whatever), and I’ll answer because my head is full of both useful and useless information which I don’t mind sharing. Because I’m a giver.

If you’re wondering how this all started, read this:

If you want to know what people have asked so far, read this:

Let’s get to it, shall we?

This week I received several questions related to portfolios (the writer’s kind, not the financial kind), and two or three related to chicken. …

Not for nothing did I love you
build a life on your word
believing it solid as the sky

Not for nothing did I sing you
like a song of new lyrics
sighed into life

Not for nothing did I see you
distressed by dreams delayed
like lightning coming long after rain

Not for nothing did I trigger you
hollow point words
aimed at the softest spot

Not for nothing did I let you
drain us like sun on snow
willing new shoots to form

Not for nothing did I bring you
here into the light
after the dust of…

Welcome to the first issue of Just Ask Stacy. If you’ve somehow stumbled upon this and you’re not sure what’s happening, don’t worry. Just read the following and it will all become clear:

So, some of you are in the process of job-hunting and you’re annoyed with it all. This week I received a few questions about the online application process, getting an internship, and possibly fleeing the country — not necessarily in that order.

Let’s start with the online application first, m’kay?

Q: I’m so tired of online applications! They take forever to fill out even after you’ve attached your resume. Do you have any advice on how to make this process easier?
A: You gotta love online applications — especially the ones that claim they’ll populate the fields based on your attached resume, but when you attach your resume, there’s a “problem” and you have to fill out every field, including your entire past employment history! Yeah, that’s exactly what you want to be doing for the next two hours because the lazy algorithm is on a smoke break and can’t be bothered to parse your info. I don’t have a way to make the process less mind numbing, but here are a few things you can do beforehand to make it a little less time-consuming. …

I’m often asked for advice on a number of things and I freely respond because, you know, I was asked.

Over the years, that’s earned me the title of “Auntie Stacy” in nearly every job and personal relationship I’ve had. Generally, an issue comes up and someone eventually says, “Just ask Auntie Stacy; she’ll know what to do.”

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not the know-it-all who’s always got something to say about everything. But if asked my advice about something, and if I can give a good piece of advice, I will. But if I can’t, or I don’t know the answer, I will admit that freely. …

“Don’t come home pregnant.”

This is the kind of stuff she used to say to me, usually just before I went out, regardless of where I might be going. To the store. To school. To the next door neighbor’s house. On a date. The command to my ovaries was ever and always present: Thou shalt neither be fruitful nor multiply while living in this house.

It was the look that did it. Like most mothers back in the day, mine had an all-encompassing, notably compelling look that let me know she meant exactly what she’d said and she had no intention of repeating it, because I’d heard her the first time, and I know I did, and so did she so repetition was out of the question. …