Category: Poetry


She writes him at lunch

After making love on silk

Sheets tucked  in lettuce

Reading at Salt Pond Studio

I was thrilled to debut a brand new piece of Creative Nonfiction alongside writers Lorraine Salmon and Charlotte Annie on October 19th at Salt Pond Studio in Friendship, Maine.

Lorraine was in from New York to read from and sign her poignant memoir, What’s Better Than This?

Charlotte Annie shared a beautiful piece from her work of Creative Nonfiction on eulogies.

It was great to be back in Friendship, where the creative arts are well and thriving with the support of Charlotte and artist Pam Cabanas, who sponsored the event that was held at Pam’s lovingly restored Salt Pond Studio.

It’s always exciting when I have an opportunity  to expand my creative connections!




Tenant’s Harbor Poets

E4601648-C013-48A0-AC2F-06A9F9624990.jpegMoon over Marshall Point (Photo courtesy Steve Cartwright)

I am thrilled at being invited to read some of my work at the Tenant’s Harbor Poets annual event! There will be six poets reading on August 15th at 5 pm. Sure to be an auspicious evening during the Full Sturgeon Moon! Come on out and celebrate the spoken word with us!

Mark your calendar and join us!

#TenantsHarborPoets #PoetryinMaine #PoetryReading


Poet Richard Blanco



Poet Richard Blanco will be my special guest in the WRFR Rockland/Camden, Maine radio station tomorrow, Tuesday, May 29th from 6 pm to 7 pm. If you are not in the local listening area, you can stream the live show globally from Please tune your FM dial to 93.3 Rockland/99.3 Camden.

He will be reading from his latest work, Boundaries, a collaborative effort with landscape photographer Jacob Hessler. The work has been on exhibit at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art. Read more about the book in The Portland Press Herald.

Selected by President Obama as the fifth US presidential inaugural poet, he joined the ranks of such luminary poets as Robert Frost and Maya Angelou. The youngest, first Latino, immigrant, and gay person to serve in such a role, he read his inaugural poem, “One Today,” at the official ceremony.

Blanco has said he was made in Cuba, assembled in Spain, and imported to the United States – as his mother, seven months pregnant, and the rest of the family arrived as exiles from Cuba to Madrid where he was born. Only forty-five days later the family immigrated once more and settled in Miami, where he was raised and educated. The negotiation of cultural identity and universal themes of place and belonging characterize his body of work.

Blanco is the author of several poetry collections and the memoirs The Prince of Cocuyos: A Miami Childhood and For All of Us, One Today: An Inaugural Poet’s Journey. He has been a Woodrow Wilson Visiting Fellow and received honorary doctorates from Macalester College, Colby College, and the University of Rhode Island. Among his many awards and honors was the Academy of American Poets naming him as its first Education Ambassador in 2015.  He has continued to write occasional poems for organizations and events such as the re-opening of the US embassy in Havana. He lives with his partner in Bethel, Maine. Visit him at

Every Tuesday from 6 to 8 pm, 21st Century Bohemian transmits an insightful, inspirational and celebratory exploration of creativity over the local airwaves, through the voices and creative process of various artists, musicians and writers.

For more information on the 21st Century Bohemian program and the many other community radio offerings from WRFR in Rockland, please visit The station celebrates its 16th anniversary this year and offers community radio programming from an all-volunteer roster of DJs and hosts. Our diverse and varied schedule offers something for everyone!


Copper Pots


Of all the things

that could have been

In the attic

now belonging to my mother

It was only hers now

having just buried my father

Venturing alone–

Through the trap door in the ceiling

Ascending a ladder

Into the upper world

Where dad now resided

I passed things down

to my waiting sister

An antique typewriter

carefully chosen

having it cleaned and repaired

A writer’s perfect gift

Crossing a new threshold

A wound so fresh

it had not yet found me

Standing in the accumulated past

of a family

without anchor

I am in the attic

My sister on the ladder stairs

Our mother on the sofa within earshot

My dog, new to this family

Jumping up on the bed

to meet my dying father

The white-robed black priest

who came to deliver

last rites

Wishing her panicked barks

were enough

to scare him away

That perhaps it was all a

very fortunate mistake

a premature call

We sorted,

mostly without words

unsure of this new language

that made a widow

two fatherless daughters

Unable to comfort one another

Unearthing ugly brown

Ceramic pigs

Our first piggy banks

that meant the world

to us

Sparkly doodads that illuminated

so many Christmases

If I could just uncover

the copper pots

How does a whole set

Once pirouetting

from a circular copper rack

go missing

from their high-wire act?

These would be the treasure

I would carry back

through the threshold

Gleaming talismans

Holding the secrets and stories

Of so many shared meals

In the end

we left two items

A round coffee table

missing its center glass

An antenna so vast

a great prehistoric insect

whose mere presence in that space

defied logic

too big to exist

Confounding us

just like our larger than life father

slipping the earth’s axis

                                                            -Teresa Piccari
                                                            April 2016



The Visit

Last October I participated in a Poetry of Place workshop offered by Boston (via Atlantic City, not far from my Philly home) Poet Barbara Helfgott Hyett at the stunning 26 Split Rock Cove in South Thomaston, Maine. What a treat to be visited by this amazing creature as we made poems Saturday afternoon. Thanks Sandy Weisman for bringing us all together. How blessed were we?

coywolf1    coywolf2

The Visit

I observed them
arriving in their city cars
toting bags of notebooks

On day two
the poets gathered
at the teak table
sharing words

What can I say?
I was bored
the coy beast in me
wanted some attention

I padded on all fours
near to the house
gave my lush, bushy tail
a teasing flick
and trotted away

I knew the woman
with a nice mane of her own
curls of auburn
glimpsed me

I heard them push back
from the table
rushing on their slow two legs
to the windows

Pausing briefly
for dramatic tension
I appeared from the brush

Shock and awe

Human brains scrambled
to name

a female voice
cried out

I posed atop a rock rise
Allowing them a good look
Opened my impressive jaws
biting a whiff of human
in the air

They returned to their work
“What did I see
I had not seen before?”
My image striking deep
in their core

My medicine
an elixir
they will take back to the city
working them as they sleep

Sideways glances
during busy days
tufts of fur
an eyelash away

–  Teresa Piccari
October 23, 2016