Author Randy Attwood
Meet Randy Attwood.Hey, writers and readers - I'm so excited to start this series of interviews with Kansas writers! Thanks for joining us!My very first interview for Writing in Kansas is Randy Attwood. Now Randy lives across the river in Missouri, but he...
Jury Duty
Yesterday, I did NOT want to go to jury duty. I did NOT want to serve. The voir dire questioning was long and tedious, from 9 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. But I was chosen. Once in the jury room with the other 11 jurors, everyone pretty much expressed a desire NOT to be there....
One-Sentence Journal 10.17.18
The repaving of Merchant Street is in its second week making navigation in downtown Emporia a challenge.
One-Sentence Journal 10.15.18
There's a day every fall in which the temperature swings away, and you know it's not coming back.
One-Sentence Journal 10.14.18
There's a great sense of accomplishment from using a vacuum that has no bag - I get see the accumulation of cat hair and dust in the canister.
One-Sentence Journal 10.12.18
Today opened the door for winter: rain, clouds pressing down, low 50s.
Morning Walk in the Neighborhood
Morning Walk in the Neighborhood From a half-block away I noticed a young woman sitting on a cement stoop in front of a house converted into apartments. Beside her, two suitcases, and a large black trash bag likely full of belongings. She was...
Midnight in the Pasture
Midnight in the Pasture An albino moon grazes the pasture tonight, foraging its way through little bluestem, through Indian grass, casting clear light upon a small herd of bison sleeping on the range, each beast tucked inside its heavy and matted hide....
Like the Prairie’s Open Hand
I am honored to have a review of Walking on Water from the fabulous and well-published Tyler Sheldon. His review was published in The Tin Lunchbox Review, a literary journal founded by Shawna Caro. Emporia, Kansas writer Cheryl Unruh is known throughout the Midwest...
The Whims of Electricity
(note the electrical outlet to my right) THE WHIMS OF ELECTRICITY With its cream-colored face, the electrical outlet frowned. Secured in the wall next to the family dinner table, six inches from my 3-year-old ear, I kept an eye on that outlet at every meal. Someone,...
The landscape is one hill folding into another, bodies of hills lying together. There are few trees for shade. We make our own shadows here, unless a cloud runs interference with the sun.
As a hawk glides overhead, we feel the rhythms of land and sky. And somewhere out here, we step into that space between questions and answers, a place where we are satisfied with the unknown.
After darkness comes, the wind settles down, and the Milky Way flings itself across the sky. A rumor of coyotes hangs in the night air.
When the world closes up shop, when the sky turns from blue to black for the very last time, when the last poem is written and read, this is where I want to be – out in my beloved Flint Hills.
– excerpt from “At Home in the Flint Hills,” Waiting on the Sky by Cheryl Unruh ©2013