I've submitted an essay to NPR's This I Believe and two poems to the New Yorker.
Chances so small you need a microscope to see them, but it makes it exciting to check my email every morning.
I'll post all three here, at some point, but for now, this - an old favorite from Robert Bly:
The Face in the Toyota
Suppose you see a face in a Toyota
One day, and you fall in love with that face,
And it is Her, and the world rushes by
Like dust blown down a Montana street.
And you fall upward into some deep hole
And you can't tell God from some grain of sand.
And your life is changed, except that now you
Overlook even more than you did before;
And these ignored things come to bury you,
And you are crushed, and your parents
Can't help anymore, and the woman in the Toyota
Becomes a part of the world that you don't see.
And now the grain of sand becomes sand again,
And you stand on some mountain road weeping.