Today, for the second time this week, I received rejections on submissions.
I guess the positive side of this is I'm being rejected by better caliber journals. Hey, you've got to look at the positive.
Back to the drawing board.
Today, for the second time this week, I received rejections on submissions.
I guess the positive side of this is I'm being rejected by better caliber journals. Hey, you've got to look at the positive.
Back to the drawing board.
Today is Blogger Appreciation Day. With that in mind I like first to express my sincere appreciation for those people who stop by Stickpoet from time to time and occasionally offer some comments. (Ok, I don't mean spammers, I've had a rash of them in the past ten days. Their posts are moderated and never see the light of day.)
Occasionally we do have some thought provoking exchanges here and other times I do my thing and people keep coming back. So thank you to all who visit this site and take the time to read.
There is another whole group of people out there for whom I am also appreciative. These would be the bloggers who write the blogs I go to on a regular basis. There are many that I read, but among the most regular are the following that I'd like to acknowledge:
These are just a few that I follow, but they are pretty regular in posting and each offers something I especially like.
Joannie for instance is very eclectic. Her posts range from poems to pictures of various culinary endeavors she undertakes and I have especially found her how-to videos worthwhile. They generally are of technical nature related to computers and writing.
Ivy is like inspirational. I mean her dedication to her craft and how she goes about it is an excellent example for the rest of us.
Kelli is funny, I love Tuesday at the Confessional. She will from time to time post some of her work, but I especially have enjoyed her insight over the several years that I have followed her blog.
Sandra often features information about other poets and their book releases and occasionally provides an interesting commentary on a poetry related topic.
Christine is like dark and edgy. Ok, I mean her poetry not exactly her. This is a good thing- I mean it is writing I appreciate and enjoy. There is often a dark humor about it as well. Most of her posts are things she is working on, written but some interesting art as well.
Mary will pose exceptionally thoughtful questions or insights and always seems to generate a lot of feed back from her readers in the comments. Mary truly have succeeded in creating dialogue with her blog.
There, a little bit about why I enjoy each of these blogs and appreciate the work they do to post on a regular basis, fresh ideas or work. Thanks to all of you!
So I've just finished posting today's poem on Poetry Asides written from the prompt for the day: So We Decided To (blank). This is the earliest that I've finished one in a number of days. With today's poem, we are now 40% through the month of poems challenge. Even doing a basic draft a day is no piece of cake. It takes a lot out of you.
With my poem finished, and the Giants baseball game is already over for the day, I will retire to some reading in a few minutes.
Hope all of you had a joyous weekend. If you celebrate Easter, then a Happy Easter to you, if not, I bid you best wishes the same.
The WESTPORT BRANCH of the KANSAS CITY PUBLIC LIBRARY will host a reading by a number of local poets on April 22 between 4:30 and 6:30 p.m. and the public is invited. I have agreed to read at the event.
The library is located at 118 Westport Road, Kansas City, MO 64111
For more information you may call the Westport branch at 816.701.3488.
The past few mornings the cable news shows have been buzzing with talk about the President giving commencement speeches at Notre Dame, and ASU. The controversy over Notre Dame of course comes from the viewpoint expressed by some Catholics that Obama should not be invited to speak at a Catholic institution of higher learning because they believe his public policy on abortion is contrary to that of the Church's teachings. Of course so was President Bush's public policy on the Death Penalty and Pope John Paul had adamantly opposed the war in Iraq as well, but that didn't keep President Bush from being invited.
The ASU controversy is a little different and actually quite amusing if you consider the past history of the University. Notre Dame is conferring an honorary degree upon President Obama. Not an unusual exercise for a prominent speaker a University commencement. But ASA earlier in the week said their would be no honorary degree for the President. Sharon Keeler, a spokesperson for the University put it this way, "Because President Obama’s body of work is yet to come, it’s inappropriate to recognize him at this time." Following this news the chatter and editorial writers have taken on the ASU's position.
The East Valley Tribune from the Phoenix, Arizona area calls the oversight "an odd gap that besmirches the image of an excellent institution." And MSNBC's Contessa Brewer pointed out that in 1986, Kermit the Frog received an honorary degree from Long Island Southampton College and further expressed her disapproval of ASU's decision.
A list here provides some interesting names of past recipients from ASU. They include Barry Goldwater in 1961, three years before he received the Republican nomination for president and only eight years into his U.S. Senate career. There is George Romney in in 1962. He of course lost the GOP nomination for President. Sandra Day O'Connor (first woman to serve on the U.S. Supreme Court) in 1984, just three years into her 25 years on the Court. Rita Dove in 1995 - A Poet U.S. Laureate.
Anyway, I'm thinking we haven't heard the last of this.
POOF! The draft removed by me work work on for future submission.
* the prompt for this poem was to writ something about a Friday.
Poof! This draft removed by me to work on for future submissions
*the prompt was to write something dealing with memory or memories.
Routine
If I didn't do it everyday,
a pile of work got in the way
and played up differences
enough to sway the karma
an altogether different direction-
and people stop to flirt with me
or promise me more, or disagree
and take my shine all away
stalling progress for the day.
If summer rain would run and hide
and leave me all alone to cry
so the parched earth would soak
it up, how the world would that all look?
And I'd be stalled in all I do
to finally make it up to you.
The things we've missed
and things all broken
what's left, just a token.
The prompt for today was write about something that had to day with clean.
Sun Bleached Bones
Quarter of 11 and I'm just now getting my poem for day six posted over on Poetry Asides.
I'm excited that the baseball season is under way, I'm going to catch up on scores from some games today and then head to bed. My Giants play tomorrow opening at home against the Brewers in an afternoon game. Go Giants!
It's not like I'm about to crack or anything, but when you are in a funk and writing bad stuff it's a downer. Through several efforts today I concluded with another piece that I am unhappy with. The problem is they were not getting much better as the day went along.
I could of course claim this all sucks and chuck it. That would be one way of dealing with it. But anytime one's writing turns south, as hard as it is, the best thing one can do is write through it. Walking away from it is usually not a formulary for success. So after day five, I have four that washes and one that could grow into something. I suppose I should not complain- just keep writing.
I've completed my poem for day four - the prompt was to write about an animal. For some reason I was not enamored with this prompt, but I charged ahead. It is not a poem that will appear here, but I did post it on the Poetic Asides blog as required as part of the daily challenge. I'm hopeful the Sunday prompt is more agreeable with me.
This morning I attended an Undergraduate English Symposium that was held at the Diastole in Kansas City. A poet friend Amy Davis was one of the presenters and I attended both to support her work and to learn what I could from the presentation. The Diastole is a magnificent facility both inside and out. It has a tremendous collection of artwork in various media and the tranquility that exudes from this place is beyond belief.
The name itself is quite interesting. Diastole, pronounced (dy-AS-tuh-lee), is a medical term for the interim between heartbeats, when the heart muscle relaxes. Systole is when the heart beats and delivers life's blood downstream. The heart rests following each systole, and fills with the blood of the next pulse. This period, the heart at rest, is Diastole.
Amy's work is consistently fresh and very tight. She is somewhat of a master of reduction to the lowest necessary denominator when it comes to words. I especially enjoyed hearing the changed directions that some of these poems took in rewrites. It was well worth the time, besides being enjoyable.
The prompt was: The Problem with (fill in blank)
The Problem with Poetry
It wants to be.
Just be—
that’s all. To exist
apart from the shivering
cold of rainy spring afternoons
and melancholy silence
that hangs thick as molasses
in the air.
Poetry wants to be held tight
and listened to. To be seen
not just heard.
To lie spread-eagle
on the page; bare,
and hear only the gasp
at its raw form.
Do not argue with poetry.
Not out loud.
Any disagreement should come
as a sweet discourse
within the mind.
Judge not what is said
in those lines before you.
They are for their own part
playing out what latitude
you have allowed them—
and in the end, it is the mind
that is at fault, not the poem.
Just about a half hour ago I completed my day two poem based upon a prompt of outsider. And now that I'm done, I'm thinking about all the "outsiders" that are not getting anything out of national poetry month.
Of course, we poets and poetry enthusiasts may well be in the minority. I suppose who constitutes an outsider here is open to debate, but I really think that it has more to do with groups drawn by a common likeness. There is probably more likeness among those who cling to the love of poetry than those who don't. Among those who don't there may be a wide range in the level of disinterest. For example those with little or no exposure to poetry may comprise a portion of the whole. Then those who were exposed to it and had a strong distaste for it. Then more casually disinterested people and so on.
It seems each year I ask myself what is the big deal that sends some people running from poetry? I am again processing that question in my mind tonight.
Yes, I've got poetry. I successfully met my day one challenge. A poem off a prompt about the origin of something.
I must confess, it rhymed. I believe my penitence will be be 2 Our Fathers and 5 Hail Marys. Oh yeah, and go forth and rhyme no more.
For a bit of a treat, here Stephen Dunn reads Talk to God from his book, What Goes On—Selected and New Poems 1995-2009. Check it out.

I want an Eskimo Pie.
I want it cold
and hard as marble.
I want to peel the chocolate layer off
in two halves.
First eat the vanilla inside.
Hold the chocolate clothing;
admire its sheen.
Afterwards consume it-
until we are one
and the rush of dopamine flashes
inside my arcade head
sending me round and round
in a ball of worked up heat
wanting more and more.
Thursday night I was fortunate enough to be in the audience at a Kansas City reading by Aimee Neshukumatathil. Aimee read from her book Miracle Fruit, her latest book titled At the Drive-In Volcano and from a newer, yet to be published manuscript.
Aimee's writer voice is not the particularly powerful voice that I usually am drawn to. Nor did she quite seem to meet the template for an academic poet. She is perhaps more in the style of Naomi Nye… a gentle voice, a voice of knowledge, a voice that is zealous and vibrant, a layered mingling of her pedigree and contemporary American culture. Among my favorites from the reading, Corpse Flower, Swear Words, and Fishbone.
She’s a very relaxed reader who commands the audience attention with a balance of humor and casual storytelling in addition to her poetry. Her tone of voice when reading is a pleasant and reassuring one.
I enjoyed reading through Miracle Fruit last night and today. Her poetry is tight and neat and relies upon a wide range of knowledge of the plant and animal kingdom as well as ethnic and cultural insight.
As news of this has trickled out to the mainstream media slowly, I'm sure some of have perhaps heard that Nicholas Hughes died on the 16th of this month at his own hands. Nicholas was of course the second of two children born to Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.
He was in 46 and made his home in Fairbanks Alaska when he was a prominent fish biologist at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Not surprisingly he inherited his fathers fondness for fishing and nature.
His passing might have only made the local papers, but the the word of his suicide made the news around the U.S. and across the Atlantic in Europe as well. He was after all the son of Sylvia and Ted. There is so much tragedy associated with the family already and this will only rekindle the debates about his mothers death.
Nicholas was less in the limelight than his sister Frieda who like her mother wrote poetry and and painted as a serious artist herself. In a statement by Frieda released as she departed for Fairbanks she noted that her brother had been battling depression for some time.
Already I've seen stories that have popped up talking about a "suicide gene." There is statistically a high percentage of suicides among individuals who have lost a family member to suicide, but so far not real scientific evidence that links the act directly to genetics. It is true that the conditions, both environmental and by some predisposition to depression may increase the tendency but that linkage is more indirect.
I want to make note of a video my daughter Meghan passed along to me and some of you may well have seen it, but for those who haven't it's an uplifting story, the kind that toughs at the heart.
I've not really had any experience with collaborative poetry in the context of shared writing. I always consider poetry to generally be a collaborative between the poet and the reader, but that's another whole matter.
I suppose it requires a special temperament for two artists, both poets, to work together to produce something that is a joint creation. C.D. Wright in a symposium I attended earlier this month, spoke of collaborating with photographers on work. That seems to me to be a particularly beneficial arrangement given the tenets under which both art forms develop.
Mutating the Signature (great name by the way) is a relatively new blog of two poets who have been actually collaborating for a while now. The poets Dana Guthrie Martin and Nathan Moore have certainly put an interesting light upon such work.
Nathan for example has explained a part of the benefit of this shared creative process this way,'"Collaborative poetry offers a respite from the struggles of solitary work. My poor, overworked ego is given a break as process and product are shared, voices are melded. It’s a fantastic feeling to be partner to the creation of a voice that’s greater than your own.'" I think any of us who've written for a while are certainly aware just how solitary the work can become.
Dana seems to derive an energy from seeing the twists and turns that can develop when two are working to meld their voices. She is quoted on their site as explaining it like this... '"The surprise of the poems we’ve written. Oh, the unforeseen turns the writing takes. Going in and not knowing where you’ll come out, or when or how. The way we each respond to the words and phrases the other person contributes. How a piece that in one moment seems like it’s headed nowhere fast can, in a word or two, find its way somewhere startling, strange and gorgeous.'"
As I've stated, I've not really worked except in the simplest terms, like at a workshop of people joining to create a poem, and that was more for fun and hardly a serious collaborative venture. I'm curious about the experiences of others, be they positive or negative. Any takers is this discussion? What's it like and perhaps you can share a bit about any rules or secrets of making it work that you'd like to share?
I made a Quick Trip run this morning for a diet coke. I noticed all over the walk and even on top of the car all these little fragments that fall off the tree when the new growth begins each spring. On the lawn too I could see new blades of grass rising up from the ground and giving a shout out in praise of spring.
For those who live in areas that do not experience the changes in season I believe you miss something monumental. If there were not a demarcation between winter and spring, between fall and winter, even the changes that are perhaps more subtle between spring and summer I feel my year would seem endlessly depressing.
Spring is such a period of rejuvenation to me. A rebirth, a second chance, a new beginning. I apologize to those who do not appreciate the sports metaphor but it's like opening day in baseball. Everything seems fresh and it makes no difference where your team finished last, everything is stars over.
March 12 - [noted part of a line from a Boston Legal episode that I have a feeling will find its way into a poem at some later date] "its always orange for breakfast and apple for lunch"
March 12 - comfort is is an approximation/which has not arrived
March 13 - you have weathered the streets/know the names of its inhabitants/and carry a Godlike name
March 13 - The word is/side effects/are rare/and musical/most of the time /hardly irritable
March 16 - It's uncomfortably warm in the house tonight. For the longest time I was here alone tonight and the house felt closed in....
March 18 - From across the hall comes an airborne thought/I shall pocket it in hopes of making it my own
March 19- Two tea bags/bold is not exactly/a distinguishing landmark
On another note, I have a blog to recommend. Brian Brodeur's How a Poem Happens is an engrossing look into the creative process various poets subscribed to in the creation of specific poems. The most recent being Sandra Beasley author of Theories of Falling. Other poets featured Dorianne Laux, Stephen Dunn, Daisy Fried, and Dan Albergotti to name a few. If you haven't been there, check it out!
I'm on a roll, sent out two batches of poems this past week to venues that I've not submitted to before. Fingers crossed!
I'm excitedly awaiting the KC visit of Aimee who will read from her book At the Drive-In Volcano. She's part of a ethnic poetry series that earlier brought Victoria Chang to KC. These are two poets that I've followed via the Internet (good Lord, sounds like I'm a stalker) for a while now so getting to see them both read in person is a treat.
Park University and the Missouri Arts Council have made this series possible so they deserve some credit for promoting these poets here locally.
Poets are soldiers that liberate words from the steadfast possession of definition. ~ Eli Khamaroy
Someone asked me if this was a good thing.... liberating words from rigid definition. What do you think? Any words out there you think need to be liberated?
I feel there is a poem here. Oh, I forgot Shakespeare already did.
May your day safe and joyous!
So Saturday has arrived. Big sigh. Even though is was a short work week for me it seemed long.
Since I've been back, I've received a rejection letter. I've completed a journal and started yet another. I'm filling them up at a rate of about 1 every three months. I've received my copy of Mortal from Ivy, which I have enjoyed and will have more to say about in a later blog post. And this morning I've been sending out more work.
I'm trying to decide if I want to the the Annual Poetry Month broad side I've done for the past two years. I've got a couple poems in mind and I've had positive response from people the past two years, but these are different economic conditions and I'm awaiting a price figure from a different printer. If I'm going to do it, I really need to decide in the next 48 hours.
The picture above is to top of a beaded vase my wife did with a bouquet of clown noses in it. It was pretty cute.Below is another view if the lower part of the vase.
It's not the sharpest picture (from camera phone with poor lighting) but you get the idea. Just thinking of the concept was creatively genius much less the execution of the idea itself. I'm not sure how she can do these things with no pattern to guide her.
Anyway, I'll tie this into my post today by saying that this year there will be no clowning around. I submissions last year were down from the previous year. I'm writing more, I just need to work harder on rewriting material and keep sending the stuff out that is publishable but has come back. Some of it just needs to find the right home.
This is a great resource for creating a file management system for your working drafts. Not only is it an excellent organizational tool, but a way to simplify working on rewrites and keeping track of drafts.
Joannie Stangeland takes us through the process in this short video. All you need is Microsoft OneNote.
I had toyed with it a little before viewing this video. Now I have an even better appreciation for what it can do. Click here to view video.
It's been a quiet evening and we stayed in, ate fried ravioli and played baseball on Playstation. Three games. I took the first two and Meghan beat me the last one. She played a really good first game and I came back in the bottom of the ninth to beat her by a run. The second came was a blowout and the third she won by a single run. I'm a tough competitor so while I won two of the three, she is getting better because two of those games were really competitive.
Things I have marveled at during this visit:
We'll take in another Giants game tomorrow at Scottsdale. Sadly it will be the last time I see the team in person for a while.
Also planning to go to the Melting Pot after the game for dinner.
I've been able to get some writing in this week, and this morning did some sketching.
Some Journal bits from this week:
March 1
March 2
March 5
March 8
My pillow is a bed for tender thoughts. Speaking of which, it's way past my bed time.
Theory
He’s a maniacal man of means
with no notion for nurturing.
Neither can he be summed up so easily
as to say that he fits into any fast track
prefabrication that is so often assigned
to many of his peers.
He cheers for one person
only, it is not clear who that person is.
There are factions that spend their spare time
in hasty debate over whom.
One theory is a brother
no one can recall ever meeting.
Some point to a woman of mystery
who has been woven in and out of his life
at various points.
There are good arguments made for each
in their own time. I however hold on
to my own theory—
He is his own best cheerleader.
Spent some time yesterday at the Virginia Piper Writer House on the ASU Campus. What a tranquil setting.
The evening we were back on campus for the ASU / Holy Cross baseball game.
ASU struck first with a run in the third and broke it open in the 5th with 4 more runs to make it 5-0.
ASU pitcher Mike Leach pitched 7 innings giving up only one hit and no runs. Brule Klye came in to relieve him in the 8th and gave up two hits but no runs and the ASU offense rolled on to a 15-0 win.
Besides the pitching, outstanding performances were turned in at 2B by Zack MacPhee who shined with his glove and Jordan Swagerty who homered in the 8th.
Today, Meghan and I catch the San Francisco Giants against the Angels in Tempe. Go Giants!
After an uneventful flight last night (the best kind) I arrived in Phoenix and was met by my daughter Meghan, with dog in tow. Said dog has grown into a Moose since I last saw him.
We stopped at Jack-In-The-Box on the way in and had tacos. A treat since I love their tacos and only am able to get them when out here or St. Louis or in the Bay area.
This morning I was on ASU campus in the library working for a while. we came home for lunch and it was like I hit a brick wall. The only things I can attribute it to are the fact that I worked my ass off the past week to 10 days in the office, and just crashed from that this morning, and or, lack of diet coke. Probably both.
On campus there were two things amusing to me, (remember it takes little to amuse me) the home made chalk sign on the sidewalk with arrow point the way to the Vagina Monologues and the other was where my daughter took to this place encircled by some administrative offices were there was this "secret garden". Back tracing our steps to the entrance, someone had painted on the sidewalk, Secret Garden but then had painted arrows pointing away from it. Hum, maybe the directions for the Vagina Monologues were wrong also.
Anyway, I scrapped plans to go back to the library to work this afternoon and crashed on the oh so comfortable bed. I'm up and feeling better now, but I still need that diet coke!
On the ground at KCI - not long till take off. The day has been a busy one in spite of being away from the office.
I'm told our flight is maybe a third empty for seating options should be many.
I saw on the screen here that it's like 83 in Phoenix this afternoon, It's in the 40's here.
Received a text message from Meghan asking of Jack-In-The- Box was ok for dinner. I love their monster tacos and we haven't had any location in the KC area for man years now. They have one or two in St Louis, so I always make a pit stop there as well as when I'm in San Francisco where they are prolific. At least last time I was there.
We'll likely be boarding soon so I'm out of here for now...
The last minute collection of the various necessitates for my trip are underway and then I'm off. Excited about seeing my two daughters, taking in the Giants Spring Training, watching the ASU Sun Devils play baseball, etc.
And writing. I do expect to get some writing done. I don't mean just blogging, though this blog will not be silent while I'm gone. Perhaps it will be even more active then it has been the past couple of weeks. I actually been busy and not posting as much as I would normally do.
It's getting close to noon and I need to go through my final list of TTD.
David Orr writing in the Feb 22 N.Y. Times piece titled "The Great(ness) Game" asks what we do when John Ashbery and his generation are gone?
The assumption made in the article is that there are no great poets living, outside of that generation and I don't know myself if there are or there aren't. This is precisely because I'm not privy to what constitutes greatness in a poet. Orr himself acknowledges the illusiveness of such a definitive yardstick. What is a great ice cream flavor? We all have opinions but can I sell Black Walnut to the public at large a the great ice cream Flavor?
We can look at an Emily Dickinson and perhaps agree on a designation of greatness, but how long did it take for that to become common knowledge. She was dead before it was ever widely accepted, and by quite a few years I believe. So really, we could have great poets among us and not yet be aware of the fact.
Orr asks if great poets are one and the same as "major" poets? What do you think on that point? I'm inclined to think you have to be a major poet to be a great one, but the reverse. Still that isn't releasing the secret ingredient in the recipe.
Digging deeper still, Orr looks at a 1983 essay by Donald Hall in which Hall said it seemed to him that contemporary American poetry was afflicted by modesty of ambition. Going further, the test according to Hall is to write words that live on. To aspire to be as good as Dante.
Donald Hall is among the living poets whose work I respect and with whom I connect with more often then not. Is he a great poet? I don't think all his work would meet the Dante test. So can a poet be great if hits that high mark on occasion or must he have to be consistent? Was Dante himself consistent?
Then I'm hung up on the lament that there isn't enough ambition going on. Are we really wanting hungry ambition from our poets. I know the monetary climate for poets certainly supports the hungry aspect, but ambition is such a sleazy word when it snuggles up next to an art. Maybe dedicated, focused, serious. Perhaps we are really splitting hairs.
David Orr's article is a critical look; not quite so much at the state of contemporary poetry as it is what we internally expect from poetry. What we are willing to settle for. No art is static an neither are its consumers.
[I've missed several weeks of this, sigh. So spank me!]
You say.... I think:
a few random items from my journal this week...
Feb 14 - At times like this Alice will sit at a small table/pouring Earl Grey as we sip from miniatures/and talk about what, I never recall.
Feb 15th -In talking with Meghan yesterday I can tell she is getting excited about my upcoming visit.
Feb 16 - Yesterdays rewrite of An American Whim came after receiving critical comments (that I sought) from PB and AD. AD gave me the most critical (technical) view while PB spoke to things she liked about it.
Books are scissor stacked/in piles, on end tables,/desktop, the thick of carpet/on the floor next to the easy chair
Feb 17- Where has this month gone to? Already a shortened month it appears to work against the benchmarks I've arbitrarily set...
Feb 18 - MR emails me, "you of all people have new stuff and old stuff." Feel like I've been busted.
The pretext for the afternoon / was as one sided as the face /of Mount Rushmore but not near/as stark....
It was not with the exchange/of currency or anything so mercantile/
Feb 19 - was so totally whipped out from work today...
A poet friend the other day was giving me feedback on one of my poetry drafts and in response to something I had written said, "You should read Wallace Stevens if you haven't lately. The crazy things that guy does with repetition and refrains." So, I went looking for a Wallace Stevens poem and read The Emperor of Ice-Cream which I found enjoyable. I then moved away from the poem and began to type. Keep in mind I often begin drafts in longhand. There were just two words that came to my mind and they were, "The pretext" and nothing more. Where they came from I couldn't say, but after typing them from the keyboard with just a momentary pause I began to type again and in relatively short order, maybe 20 minutes at the most I had a draft that I stopped working on. After moving away from the draft for some time, I went back and quite frankly felt that I could do nothing more to it. Not by addition or subtraction other than a change of title.
The number of times I've written something on the spot like this and could not improve on it are like never. There is one occasion in which I came close to this, but still made some editing changes. It's not an occurrence that one has happen very often, if ever.
I may well wake in the morning and find room for improvement, but I don't expect it will likely change much. That's how good I feel about it. Better than some pieces I've worked on over a span of more than a year. It's moments like this that makes all the other eternal rewrites seem worth enduring through.
Thanks Amy for the advise. How the Emperor of Ice-Cream led me to the pretext and all that followed to write what I now call The Face of Mount Rushmore, I'll never figure out. They are nothing alike, but I'm sure that one lead to the other.
Instead of writing tonight I watched three rerun episodes of Boston Legal. Does that make me a bad poet? I'm being rhetorical here, a response is not required.
Annie Finch has authored four books of poetry, Eve, Calendars, The Encyclopedia of Scotland, and the forthcoming Among the Goddesses. She is a Professor of English at the University of Southern Maine and Director of the Stonecoast MFA Program in Creative Writing.
I've been spending a lot of time writing this weekend and as words have flown in and out of my my head I've been naming them good words and bad words. Of course the good and bad designations are nothing more then reflections of my personal likes and dislikes.So tonight I thought I'd list a few words that tickle my fancy and some that I simply do not care for. In some instances it's that sound of the words that I like or dislike. In other, I'm fascinated by some aspect of the word, its meaning, etymology, etc. So without further ado, I give you some of my likes and dislikes from our language.
| Likes | Dislikes |
| elliptical | stutter |
| exude | heir |
| puce | vomit |
| ubiquitous | mayonnaise |
| pathogen | infomercial |
| explicit | Raspberry |
| irascible | irksome |
| prevaricate | bile |
| coetaneous | foil |
| awe | sideburn |
| toasty | lash |
| vulnerable | dwarf |
| arbitrary | mumble |
| immune | pungent |
| crumpet | snub |
| oscillate | squeal |
| Formica | liquefy |
| capsulate | winch |
I got an early start on Valentines day by taking my wife to the Melting Pot on Thursday evening. She hates to fight the crowds so we beat them.
It was a lovely dinner and I especially enjoyed the Traditional Fondue. Swiss is among my favorite cheese.
Of course the dessert we had the Yen and Yang Fondue which was a blend of dark chocolate and white chocolate for dipping the various dessert and fruit items. While this was very good, it was quite rich and really a bit much. I enjoyed the dinner fondue the most.
The atmosphere was low lighting and we were seated nicely with a minimum of distraction. I'd do it again anytime!
Oh, as if we were chocolate deprived, last night on the way home from work Cathy stopped at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory for gourmet Chocolate Apples. Mine was Tigers Butter... yum!
My new monitor for work has arrived. This is good because I was starting to feel a little gothic working in the dark so I could faintly see the screen.
Monday night is one of my TV nights. House & The Closer. Sill, I'll try and siphon off a little time this evening to write. Ah... just remembered Obama has a press conference tonight so the networks will likely be off time wise.
Last night I came across a D.H. Lawrence quote that struck me curiously. It goes like this... "Never trust the artist. Trust the Tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it."
So I thought about this for a while and I pictured some of my poems having to be rescued from me. So I'm thinking about some critic smugly determining the story line - assuming there is one, from a particular poem and then fending off the poet's ownership stake in the poem. The critic arguing, this isn't all about what you saw, it's about what I see. Then the two go round and round. Well I say phooey! It's about whatever the fuck you find in it. There. I'm through rolling in the gravel over it. Don't get me wrong, critics a a place in this world and I'm willing to listen to them just as much as the next guy.
C.D. Wright Reading March 10 7:00 PM UMKC Person Auditorium - be there!
C.D. Wright Symposium March 11 7:00PM KC Public Library / Central Branch - Helzberg Auditorium. Don't Miss!
Listening to: Bruce Springsteen - Last to Die
Mood: dragging
Feb 2 - My computer monitor at work came on completely today at your. Yeah! [it takes so little to amuse me]
"a mixture of fashions brighten/the party crown that lingered/to graze on finger food and spontaneity"
Feb 3- I heard the most interesting story today on NPR about the Mendelssohn Project...
Feb 4 - It was after midnight when I turned in last night but thankfully the taxes have been done [a tax hangover followed]
"I went to that place in my head/with my pen, that place you occupy"
Feb 6 - Right this moment I feel especially small...
Feb 7- "...you always think there is time/to do the prime numbers/but hope is faded denim/and its value of questionable character"
Quote by Henry Miller - "I believe everything you tell me, but I know it will all turn out differently."
Congratulations are in order for Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg of Lawrence, Kansas. Caryn was selected to serve as the new Kansas State Poet Laureate beginning July 1st. She has master’s and doctoral degrees from The University of Kansas. Already she has selected a poet laureate project which she calls Writing Across Kansas: Reading and Writing Our Way Home. Through this Caryn hopes to strengthen the presence of poetry in Kansas, build literary communities statewide and enhance Kansans’ sense of place through poetry. She already sounds extremely organized.
This was produced on Wordie. I found it via Christine Klocek-Lim's site. I put four of my poems selected at random and dropped them into the gadget for generating “word clouds” from text. The clouds give greater prominence to words that appear more frequently in the source text.
Pretty cool.
If you were planning to attend the Azar Nafisi event at the Plaza Library tomorrow night, it has been postponed. There should be information forthcoming soon about when it will be rescheduled.
Listening to Beethoven - Symphony No. 3 E Major
Mood: Awake
I'm up and ready for the day. I've made an unsuccessful trip to Target to see if their shipment of Skinny Cow Fudge Cones have come it. They haven't. This is like crack to my wife. Evidently to many others as well because they don't seem to ever run out of the other Skinny Cow items except this. When momma don't got no Skinny Cow Fudge, no one is happy.
Super Bowl Sunday is not quite as special to me as it may be many guys. I'll likely watch the game but with less enthusiasm than many. The biggest significance to me is that once it is over it clears the way for Spring Training and the real poetic sport.... Baseball.
There are a hand full of football teams I have some interest in, but not a lot for the sport in general. There have been past times that I've rooted for Pittsburgh, but I'm probably pulling for the Cardinals today. Regardless of how it turns out I won't lose any sleep over it.