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©2016-2018 by Pat Durmon, Poet. Proudly created with Wix.com

February 24, 2020

At the library in town. My computer is suddenly jazzy. Weaves in and out of google, email, photos, Facebook, and websites with ease, gliding like it’s in a long, flowing dress.

Everything in the high-tech world sways like couples of the Big Band Era. I want to applaud i...

February 17, 2020

If I believe in behaviors, which I surely do, I have a big case of this mama-thing. Even with people who are not related to me! Surely I’m not the only one who does these things.

Just take yesterday, for example.

My niece, who had a little stress in a new job, came to th...

February 10, 2020

In 1958, I was a fourteen-year-old girl in North Little Rock.

As I think about that city, it seems like every day was hot. I know that can’t be true. I recall the downtown traffic, one car always smashed up against another. (I had no idea at the time that I had a depth...

February 3, 2020

My eyes. They hurt. They need rest from reading and writing. I’ve been trying to meet deadlines. Self-imposed, of course!

Two days ago, my hairdresser told me about a new recipe she’d found on Pinterest. She raved about it, so I wrote the ingredients down while I was in...

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March 23, 2020

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