Editor

Late Ripeness “Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a door opening in me and I entered the clarity of early morning. One after another my former lives were departing, like ships, together with their sorrow. And the countries, cities, gardens, the bays of seas assigned to my brush came closer, ready now to be described better than they were before. I was not separated from people, grief and pity joined us. We forget - I kept saying - that we are all children of the King. For where we come from there is no division into Yes and No, into is, was, and will be. We were miserable, we used no more than a hundredth part of the gift we received for our long journey. Moments from yesterday and from centuries ago - a sword blow, the painting of eyelashes before a mirror of polished metal, a lethal musket shot, a caravel staving its hull against a reef - they dwell in us, waiting for a fulfillment. I knew, always, that I would be a worker in the vineyard, as are all men and women living at the same time, whether they are aware of it or not.” ~ Czeslaw Milosz ~ My name is Cristina Jill Mosqueda Cooper. I pause looking at my name, and think about how much there is to explain with those words alone. My mother gave me a name to use in each of my worlds, Cristina for my Cuban life, and Jill for the American life. I suppose it is there were the paradoxes of my life began. I have been many things in my life, from a housekeeper to a high school history teacher; but no matter what else I did, I was always a writer. I love words and the power and passion which they can be used to create. I love reading words, writing words, speaking words, and listening to words – especially words from people that I love and respect. It is my desire to live life on my own terms, and willingly or not, I have paid the price demanded, by the world, to be myself. I share my life with Kate, with whom I have lived for the last 23 years, and Miss Merry Margaret, our little mutt who really is the world’s most perfect dog. I also travel, cook, garden, sculpt, and make large messes doing all of the above. Welcome to my world, that is all for now.

Web Site: http://ThatIsAllForNow.com


Poet’s Corner

February 13, 2012

  Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines by Pablo Neruda   Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved...
Read More »

Poet’s Corner

January 12, 2012

Explanations of Love by Carl Sandburg There is a place where love begins and a place where love ends. There is a touch of two hands that foils all dictionaries. There is a look of eyes fierce as a bigBethlehemopen-hearth furnace or a little green-fire acetylene torch. There are single careless bywords portentous as...
Read More »

Poet’s Corner

December 11, 2011

  When You Are Old by William ButlerYeats  When you are old and gray and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.   How many loved your moments of glad grace,...
Read More »

Poet’s Corner

September 1, 2011

 The Pretender by Jackson Brown I’m gonna rent myself a house in the shade of the freeway I’m gonna pack my lunch in the morning and go to work each day And when the evening rolls around I’ll go on home and lay my body down And when the morning light comes steaming in...
Read More »

Poet’s Corner

August 1, 2011

  I Hear America Singing By Walt Whitman I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear, Those of mechanic, each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong, The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes read for work, or leaves...
Read More »



Art


Copy Protected by Chetan's WP-Copyprotect.