by Mary McKSchmidt | Oct 13, 2025 | 2025, Poetry
What you may not know about Billy Martinis that in January of 1972, the same year he took the Detroit Tigers to their first American League East Championship,he met a young woman sports editoron a Tiger preseason press tour. It was the first time a...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Sep 22, 2025 | Blog Post, 2025
At a time when grief lurks in the background like a cat waiting to pounce in moments of vulnerability; when the headlines tempt me to roll into a cocoon of isolation, a poet creates a cinepoem that slices through the darkness and reaches a pinhole of light flickering...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Sep 1, 2025 | 2025, Poetry
This curious song sung by a frog appeared mysteriously, a do-loop in the brain that would not disappear shortly after her death. It was not “Oh what a beautiful morning,”“Take me out to the ball game,”“Let’s go fly a kite” or any of the songs we used to sing every...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Jul 28, 2025 | Blog Post, 2025, Poetry
On Sunday, July 20, 2025, Jane McKinney—my mother, friend, teammate, co-author, chair chat buddy, and co-creator of “A Bench and a Tree”—passed peacefully, surrounded by her children in front of her beloved window. She was ninety-eight years old. Although no...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Jul 16, 2025 | Poetry, 2025
for Rubin Most days I am with heras she begins a departure that isinevitable, reasonable, heart-smashing. But this day I am with him. And while the horizon is swallowedby a disconcerting fog, the stillness of this momentin his presence soothesand...
by Mary McKSchmidt | Jun 30, 2025 | Blog Post, 2025
In a life that’s zigzagged from newspapers to corporations to advocating for the Great Lakes and seniors, I write poetry to reveal and weave the jagged threads that are me. If one of my poems resonates with you, it is as if a beacon of light flashes through the...
