Writing a poem is like taking out a pair of pliers, choosing a tooth, and yanking it right out my jaw. It’s a process wherein low-level pain builds into smarts I can’t ignore anymore. I don’t want to do it. I resist the impulse. I dawdle and hesitate. Then, all…
Leave a CommentAuthor: Patrick Dobson
Dr. Patrick Dobson is a work in progress until his termination. In the meantime, He is a writer, scholar, postman, and college professor living in Kansas City, MO.
The University of Nebraska Press published his travel memoirs, Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer in 2015 and Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains in 2009. Canoeing the Great Plains won the 2016 High Plains Book Award in Creative Nonfiction and the Thorpe Menn Literary Excellence Award. His essays and poems have been published in New Letters, daCunha, Kansas City Star, Garo, Wood Coin, and JONAHmagazine, and others.
Dobson earned a doctorate in American History and Literature at the University of Missouri-Kansas City in 2013. He has edited books, taught journalism, and been a union ironworker. He now teaches American History, Modern Latin American History, and Western Civilization at Johnson County Community College in Overland Park, KS.
He looks forward to hearing from you soon.
Bill, I received your note yesterday, and it was a great pleasure. I’m glad your getting some reading in and the number of volumes you’ve been able to consume. I would like to read some of the things you’re into. Except the Harry Potter books. They drive me crazy and…
One CommentAll around me people are complaining about the weather. No one I’ve heard so far has proclaimed how great winter is, how sublime a naked landscape can be. I only hear woe and wail about the cold. I get it. It’s winter. It’s cold. We live in the stormy Midwest…
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Moving the stone into the place I’d chosen for it took all my strength. At three feet long, two feet wide and two and a half feet high, it was by far the largest rock I’d deal with in the building of my wall. Using a long steel digging bar…
Leave a CommentIn Bastogne now, Virginia made it her singular mission to eat a Belgian waffle in Belgium. I was jumpy and anxious and didn’t want to go traipsing around for waffles. I grumbled about it to Udo, who looked at me and said it would be all right, be patient. As…
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