No Foothold in this Geography

<p>I have lived most of my adult life in Greece.  I start with this statement because of the unexpectedly vast impact and weight this fact has had on my world views, how I “translate” and survive in my surroundings, and, naturally, what — and even how — I write.  The cultural and physical landscapes of New England, where I was born and raised, and those of the Greek/Mediterranean where I have lived for so long, mingle, merge and even coalesce in intriguing and often inexplicable ways in my poetry.  I might begin with a winter New Hampshire image, and a thread of Greece will attach itself to the image and pull it in another, surprising direction. I always trust these interventions, these visits; they inevitably create rich narrative tapestries. I believe they are also a large part of <em>why</em> I write, not only <em>what</em> I write.  In the past few years, world political events have also empowered my writing, infusing it with tension, contradiction and sometimes even mystery. Most recently, my writing has centered around the refugee situation in Europe, specifically Turkey and Greece, and my own experiences in the camps and with the immigrants themselves.</p><p>        I have worked in teaching, writing, editing and counseling; I have also published six books of poetry, one of which, <em>The Possibility of Red//Η Πιθαν?τητα του Κ?κκινο, </em>published by Hobblebush Books in 2014, is a bi-lingual edition in English and Greek (translated by Irene Theotokatou and Maria Laina). I have won a number of poetry and chapbook contests and prizes and have been nominated for the Pushcart Poetry Anthology twice; my latest book is <em>Gathering the Soft, </em>an art/poetry book that circles around the subject of cancer, put out in 2016 by Passager Books.</p>