"Focus on Door County," Star Tribune Newspaper Travel Feature 2016
"King Cotton," Solas Award Winner, Best Travel Writing, Destination 2016
Interview w/poet Melissa Studdard, filmmaker Dan Sickles, Motionpoems 2015
Interview w/poet Albert Goldbarth, filmmaker Chris Jopp, Motionpoems 2014
"S/he Had Sex," Love/Lust, Open 2 Interpretation Book 2014
"Garden," Garden Chapbook, Prospect Park Ampitheater 2014
"A Night of Mourning," Women Remember the 60s and 70s Anthology,
"My Town," Hometown Chapbook, Susan Hensel Gallery of Narrative Art 2013
"Geography of Memory," Women’s Press, Twin Cities, MN 2011
"The City," City Chapbook, Susan Hensel Gallery of Narrative Art 2011
"A Riff on the NONFICTIONOW Writing Conference," Brevity 2006
"Left So Perilously Behind," Minnesota Literature Council, Annual Essay
Contest, 3rd Place, reading and publication in MLC newsletter 2006
"Vietnam War Photography," Voices of Resistance: Anti-War Art & Words,
U of M 2003
PWAlive Newsletter, Minnesota (Art, writing, Board Member) 1995 - 1997
Fresh Air Magazine, Twin Cities (Community News Editor KFAI radio) 1980
The Guardsman, San Francisco City College newspaper (News, feature, sports,
editorial writing – reporting, layout, proofing, photography) 1978 - 80
City Women, San Francisco City College newsletter editor (Design, coordinate,
write articles, recruit and supervise writers/artists) 1979 - 1980
I saw the burning rice fields, their villages and lotus ponds, people gathering at the marketplace, mist along the limestone mountains, Buddhist temples and the landscape growing dark. All of this, I saw from the work of photojournalists. This, and the disturbing combat photos that were pervasive during the Viet Nam War. Magazines worldwide splashed photo essays of the horrors of destruction, injury, and death inflicted upon both soldiers and civilians. This free reign by the media produced provocative pictures that both repelled and invited a response.
Most impressive was the work of Welshman Philip Jones Griffiths, who photographed the war from the eyes of the Vietnamese. In his 1971 book, Viet Nam, Inc., which Time magazine called "the best work of photo-reportage of war ever published..." Griffiths eloquently wrote about and illustrated the effects of American military policies such as "relocation" and "search and destroy." According to one military commander, "it became necessary to destroy the town in order to save it."
At the very center of Griffiths' book is a photograph of a wounded boy laying in the streets of Saigon. The child was on his way to church when a misguided U.S. rocket hit him. His motionless body lies before us–
barefoot, crumpled shorts, one hand resting across his bare chest, shirt torn open and face serene, eyes shut, yet his face glows in the light, the body covered with a mixture of blood and dust. Standing around him are a crowd of other children, some very young. Perhaps they realize it could easily have been them lying there. Expressions of seriousness and deep concern can be seen in their eyes and open mouths, the clenching of their hands, and the holding back of the littlest ones, so determined to see him. While this boy was dying in a nearby hospital, American soldiers elsewhere in their country collected human skulls to take home as souvenirs.
Besides the images from Griffiths' newly reprinted book, I reviewed photographs from David Duncan, Catherine Leroy, Larry Burrows, Marc Riboud and others. Freed from the censorship of governments and military, they showed the emotional as well as the physical affects of war. I believe that these freelance combat photos and those of the anti-war movement raised war photography from merely a historical accounting to a catalyst for change.
Minnesota Literature Council's Annual Essay Contest & Publication
F I R E He leads me into the apartment at the other end of the block, picks up its door, moves it and leaves me there. While walking through, the smoke residue attaches itself to my clothes, hair and memory. It escapes through the new holes in the roof of the sunroom. The smoke hangs, like drapes, in every room. It coats the few remaining items - the kitchen cupboards, the radiators, the French doors. And when I leave, it comes with me.
A F G H A N I S T A N With mountains hovering in the distance, dirt roads lead past the Shur Bazaar district of Kabul. Stone structures resemble pueblos of the Anastazi. One soul walks through as the sun illuminates each dwelling, each wall of brick, and each mound. Mostly, it is the land that dominates: a place of pain, poverty and destruction. The gutted remains of so much history leaves one asking if God answers prayers. It doesn't appear so. While the aggressors rotate, the results often are the same. American soldiers are here now to remove one more layer of ground, structures, and people. I don't think we know why.
E N C O U N T E R My life intersects with George W. Bush's on a frigid Midwestern night. A split-second glance accentuates the absurdity. We speed past each other on the 35W freeway; he to an expensive Republican fundraiser, me to edit a neighborhood's oral history, both of us flashing by at high speeds in completely opposite directions.
Viet Nam War Photography, Voices of Resistance: Anti-War Art & Words, U of MN
We destroyed their economy. We turned their women into whores.
We separated families, made orphans of so many children.
We destroyed their beautiful cities. We destroyed the countryside–
reduced triple-canopied jungles to bare red clay, left bomb craters everywhere.
Anne Allen, Viet Nam journalist in 1967-68