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Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Confession Tuesday



Dear Reader:

It's been a week since my last confession.

This past week seems to have gone quickly. Often times the weekends seem that way but I confess not so much the work week. But this one did and I can't quite explain why.Of course I'd like the weekends to dally a little bit more but I'm fine with the work weeks speeding up. (I may have just jinxed Thursday and Friday.)

One of the things that I like about the Timehop application is that because I often shoot pictures of new books when I get them and start reading and post them,  A year later, two years later I get reminded what I was reading back then. I think this is cool but I confess that I may well be the only one.

In a weird sort of phenomena I confess that I've been writing lots of short phrases lately. Not connected to anything in particular. Hopefully, I will find a way to make use of  some of them by connecting to other word groupings to form the creation of some poems with them.

I confess that I was writing the word lasagna and I wanted to add about three more letters to it.  It just looked so inadequate unless I piled on a few more layers of letters.

That's it for this week.  I said it went  fast. ;-)

Everyone be safe and come back next week.




Sunday, February 22, 2015

The Mag #259 It's A Clown Thing



I will not be swallowed by your rotund
laughter. Nor pierced by your carnival
eyes.  No, what I would do is to reach,
into your face in that way you disrespect
my personal space, and with much malice
squeeze that bogus red nose of yours.

Who was it that first decided for us
that clowns and children go together?
Is there a requirement by The International
Clown Workers Union that their painted faces
must incorporate a systemic sociopathic
flat affect to go with their smile?

Never reassuring, never comical.
If it were not for such faces, we might
find your big blue feet funny.  We might
laugh at your baggy clothing. But no,
your face freaks us out - it's so obvious.
It's the first thing we see, and all I want
to do, is honk your nose and run.


Michael Allyn Wells


The Mag

Friday, February 20, 2015

New Poetry to Read - Just in Time For The Weekend

What better way to start a weekend than to come home from work and find a new poetry book in your mailbox?

Earth by Cecilia Woloch is the Winner of the 2014 Two Sylvias Press Chapbook Prize.

I've previously read her poetry collection titled Late and  found it to be a well crafted and thought provoking.  I am expecting good things from this read.
The chapbook prize for this book was the first made by Two Sylvias Ptess and the contest was judged by Aimee Nezhukumatathil.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Confession Tuesday - Pre-Lenten Edition

Dear Reader:                                                                    

It has been some serious weeks since I did my last Confession Tuesday and when I was thinking about this last night I was at a loss for for what I would say. I almost thought I'd take a pass on this week too.  Frankly I often sit down and start without a clue so it hardly seemed rational for me to use this a a basis to skip it again.

As it turns out several things started coming to me. It was as if a great sea had pulled back exposing things one by one as the water receded - metaphorically speaking of course.

I confess there is something I most definitely need to acknowledge. During this past week a family member in a very dangerous situation came home safely. I cannot over-emphasize how providential this was. Sometimes I take things for granted and I know better. This was definitely a know better situation and the good Lord was there.

I confess that yesterday morning I surprised my wife by shoveling the walkway after an overnight snow. I went out and did this before leaving for work. She asked, Who shoveled our walk?" I confess I surprised myself too. (disclaimer - the snow was pretty light)

I have been feeling a bit like a shut-in. One of our daughters has been borrowing our car as hers seems to have bit the dust. She comes by every morning to get me for work and picks me up in the evening so its not really quite like I'm not getting out. If you call work getting out. I was thinking about it tonight and confess I am seeing this all wrong. I'm not a shut-in, I have a limousine service. (It really is all about the attitude)

Baseball is around the corner. Okay, maybe around the corner and down  the block but Pitchers and Catchers report to the Giants training camp tomorrow. I confess that I ready for the games to begin.

Speaking of around the corner. Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday the beginning of Lent. I was thinking about this yesterday because I generally make some kind of commitment related to Lent and from year to year it has varied in scope. Sometimes I've given up something for Lent and other times I've given up giving up something for Lent. This year I am going to write a poem for each of the 40 days of Lent. You may be wondering what exactly is spiritually reflective about this and I confess I don't have an answer for you. But I will tell you that in addition to the poems I am going to make an effort daily to try and find the good in people that especially annoy me. I am also going to make a special effort to be kind to everyone I come into contact with. We never know what kind of cross others are carrying.

The forty days of lent and 40 poems will take me up to Easter Sunday just days before I leave for AWP#15 in Minneapolis. I so wanted to go to AWP last year in  Seattle but that was not to be.  How this trip has come about is another miracle in and of itself. I confess that I am excited about it as well as nervous about it but I intend to be a sponge and soak up as much as I can from the experience.  I understand it can be a bit overwhelming and I will be traveling with my twin personalities Introvert and Extrovert. Of these brothers the shy Introvert will likely dominate things but I'm hopeful that his outgoing brother Extrovert will have his moments too. This will be a first time for me at AWP so if anyone has advice I'm a captive listener.

So that's it folks until next Tuesday when well let you know how the poems are coming  and if kindness prevails.  Until then, be safe.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

The Language of Love

The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love.~ Margaret Atwood

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Saturday Mashup

The weather was decent today and I walked to Target as one of my daughters has borrowed our car. It was a chance to get some sunshine as I did some #amwriting.

Late afternoon, instead of doing my Saturday Submission (I will make it up tomorrow) I chose to watch the first episode of the mini-series Dr. Zhivago. I can't remember how long ago it was that I saw the original move made in 1965 staring Omar Sharif, Julie Christie, Geraldine Chaplin  and Rod Steiger.
The story is coming back to me, I would like to see the original again. My wife and I saw it and I don't recall if it was while we were dating or after we married but in any event  it would have been earl to mid 1970's.

It was kind of nice to get lost in something on TV that was not a sit-com, reality show, or our normal variety of television. A little like getting lost in a book but a little less mentally involved.

The tree on the left probably seems a little random. It's a tree that I passed on my walk. In my "poet observer mode" I shot a couple of photos just for the heck of it. Nothing majorly significant but I did like the contrast in the shadow of the closest main branch off the trunk. I wondered to myself what it might look like if I had a camera set up on a tripod that remained in the same location and over an 8 hour period shot a picture of the tree once each hour. It would be interesting to see how this contrasting light and shadow might change.

Tonight it's a little colder and we've had some precipitation that started. It's 57 degrees and I don't think the temperature is supposed to drop much more overnight so I'm not expecting a freeze.
Silas when out briefly and it was barely misting and he came in with his coat pretty wet. His fur is so thick that it pretty much beads up on the top layer of hair and never really penetrates deep into the fir. He appears to be down for the night now and looking at the time I should be too.

Finished up the pages of one of my journals and started a new one by quoting a inspiring few lines from a poem by another poet. Words that are constant reminders what it means to practice an art. In my case, poetry.