Confession Tuesday - OM to the Goats Edition

Another week already? Come, follow me to the confessional.

Dear Readers:

It's been one more democratic candidate for president, one Goat Yoga event, 1,471 stupid violations of the do not call list on my phone, a Sunday without Modem Secretary,  3 more wins and 3 more losses for the San `Francisco Giants,  another book read a week of tinkering with rewrites.

Is anyone besides myself tired of calls telling you how good your credit is, there are no problems with your account (well duh) and them the robocall pitches consolidating your loans?  Or want to interest you in some senior product or service. I confess I wish bad things to happen to these people. Well, not like death or loss of a limb or something. And I'm not talking about the caller so much (on live calls) as the company owner or manager. Like your toilet #4 on the third floor over Flows and drips down all three floors, plus the basement, and ruins your dining room table and antique oriental rug. Yes, that is me. I admit it. I didn't say I was proud, just overly irritated.

While I am a bit cranky - let me mention that Sunday nights are for my wife and me to watch Madam Secretary. Then the gods of TV land interrupt that schedule at least one of us and sometimes both of us will get cranky. This happened last night.

I confess that I love finishing books because it gives me a chance to move to another one on my to read pile. That pile grows like the National Debt. But I've finished another and will be looking to start another. I 've finished reading The Veronica Maneuver by Jennifer Moore.  I will be doing a review of the book soon. (adding to my growing to do list).

Goat Yoga. There is such a thing. I kid you not. (no pun intended) Yesterday I joined others at Paradise Park for a session of goat yoga. My thanks to Stacy Walsh, our yogi for the session. She comes from Core Balance in Lee's Summit.  The cute little things wander around among us and challenge our focus. They will occasionally have accidents. My mat was missed by inches. Their poop looks like Raisinets.  See photo to right. Aside from, the experience was fun and we did get some light yoga in, which at this stage is about where I am at in the yoga experience overall.  Anyone who knows me well quite possibly knows my affinity towards goats.

It's raining again here today and I feel my head is like a heavy sponge that is pulling all the rainwater from my feet upward. We've had so much water that it just stands in the yard and has no place to go. I went to let Silas out this morning he looked out the door and just stood there like, ugh, this shit again!  I feel ya, Silas!

That's all I got for this week. I need to look and see who is accepting submissions and make a list. Until next time, be safe, of good cheer, and watch out for the Raisinets.

Confession Tuesday - Good Week for Writing & Stakes

Dear Reader:

It has been two home grilled stakes, one fixed flat tire, a new draft poem, one book review written, another book finished, the riding lawnmower fired up for the first time of spring, two Giants win and four losses, one dream with a visit by a poet, a not so good week at weight watchers, a family Easter gathering and one week since my last confession.


I confess I almost forgot how good home grilled steak can be.

On the writing scene - I've read a lot this week (reading in several books at a time) but finished In The House of My Father By  Hiwot Adilow - Published by Two Sylvias Press and winner of the 2017 Two Sylvias Chapbook Prize - judged by Kaveh Akbar.   Published by Two Sylvias Press and winner of the 2017 Two Sylvias Chapbook Prize - judged by Kaveh Akbar.  I Wrote a new poem draft that I believe has promise, however, I am still working on rewrites - yesterday's was like a 4th and it still needs more work. I confess that I always get giddy when I receive a new Poet's and Writers, The Writer's Chronicle, or one of my journal subscriptions in the mail. P&W came this past week but I have not had time to read it - just thumbed through and I looks like a pretty good issue. Maybe I can start reading it today at lunchtime. So I have to say that I am happy with my writing exploits this past week.

I had a slow leak in a tire that I have filled up several times over the last couple of weeks. I bought a portable tire inflator - but also took the car back to the tire store and they found a nail in it and fixed it. Since I have the inflator I probably won't need it anytime soon. That's what happened with buying a snow plow this winter after several heavy snows. We bought and used it on the last big one and then they all stopped. 

I confess I am feeling a little down about my Giants but I am also tired of all the disparaging comments in line by so-called Giants fans. Team fams can certainly be disappointed by the performance on the field but comments like treading the entire team are neither realistic or helpful. I've been a Giants fan for maybe 35 years and they have had some awesome years and some less impressive, but I am still a Giants fan.

The Grand kids cracked me up over Easter.  Participated in so many egg hunts I don't know how they kept up their energy. The younger tagged along behind her bigger sister and gladly took the cast-offs of big sister  (who doesn't care for chocolate or white chocolate).

So last night I had a dream that  I was visited by another poet. We drank wine, overindulged in pastries. Chatted with my wife. Listened to music and I must have taken my blood sugar three or four times in the dream. Talking shop might have been fun but we didn't do that.  I don't often have poets invited into my dreams for some reason but when it happens it is usually a delight. I confess usually there is something a bit eccentric that happens.

It seems that living in the now becomes harder with all the stuff in the world going on. It's not at all easy to do and not think about worldly problems.  I hope to immerse myself more into reading and writing in the week ahead.

Until next time~

Peace, Joy, and good writing.

Confession Tuesday - Tears for a Fire

Dear Reader:                                                                                                                                               
It's been one lost pound, one poetry book read, one haircut, numerous new poetry drafts & rewrite,  two yoga sessions, one massive 800-year-old Cathedral burned down and one week passed since my last confession.  Please, to the confessional we go.


Reader, yesterday, I watched like so many around the world as raging fire destroyed the bulk of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. I've never been there. I have two daughters who were fortunate enough to experience it. The Cathedral has been perhaps the world's most famous. Besides the center of Paris, it is a significant landmark for Catholicism and contained many artistic treasures. Fortunately, many of those pieces of art, as well as church icons, were removed and saved. But Notre Dame was a cultural icon as well. It has been featured in untold pieces of literature and appeared in countless movies. Additionally, it was an architectural expression of the gothic style and a tourist magnet.

But those are all nuts and bolts talk. I found myself wondering why was I genuinely not only sad but deeply emotional at seeing the flames of a structure I had never been to?  The church had been there for such a long time, I think my feeling is rooted in part to humanity that it represents, on one hand, and man's acknowledgment of a God on the other.  How many people toiled over how many years building this structure? On one hand, a structure grand in size to reach and pay homage to a higher power and on the other - a temple, a holy building that people over centuries have come to worship in. Human lives at work, at worship, a tribute to man's resourcefulness by the had of God.

I may not be expressing myself well, but I think my emotions are rooted in the alchemy of man and God. That is what I see when I see Notre Dame.  That is why I feel a sense of loss.

But reader, I have other things I must confess.  As hard as it may be to accept, I have never watched  Game of Thrones.

I confess to reading Tasty Other by Katie Manning. Poems of pregnancy, and birth, along with swollen ankles,  lactation, weird dreams, and urges.  You might think it would be a book that maybe guys might not quite get the full benefit of.  Maybe being a father of four (albeit grown) kids, who has been in the delivery room for each, or that is it well-written poetry, or more likely both, but I liked it, a lot.

I confess that I am reading several other books, yes at the same time.

It's National Poetry Month and I confess I did not write one poem this past week. (Insert bad poet award here)  I did revise and work on several drafts. (insert special dispensation from the higher poet here).

I did two yoga sessions this past week. I can do better.

I lost a pound. If you've seen it, I don't want to know.

That's all I've got this week.

Till next time--

Be joyful & be safe.

Confession Tuesday - So Many Books To Read

Dear Reader:

It's been 2,259 frequent flyer miles, one published poem, a ton of new books and literary reviews to read, one reading in Portland, an introduction to yoga and one month since my last confession.

It's National Poetry Month. Take a poetry pill for your anxiety. It's good for you and will do you no harm.

It's been a busy month since my last confession with AWP at the end of March,. I confess that seeing Portland for the first time was interesting. The scenery and topography were surprising to me. I must confess I  had visited Oregon numerous times in the past on the Oregon trail, but I don't think Portland as such existed back then. I was usually running low on supplies and had lost other people in my party to dysteria.  That's what I remember most about it.

I did not get a lot of sightseeing done. What I did see was from the apartment complex where we were staying and the view was hilly and rustic in the distance. Also, riding the Max into the city took me mostly through what seemed like older portions of the city. I could tell the city itself was pretty densely populated.

One of the nice aspects of the conference was seeing IRL some people that  I have been acquainted with from social media. Some for quite a few years but in all instances, it was exciting to meet them just the same.

Kelli Russell Agodon had been over the years one of my very favorite poets. I confess that after meeting her I worried that I had babbled on, but oh well.  Jennine Hall Gailey was another first time to meet. Michael Schmeltzer, a first. I have books by all three of these people.

Marianne Mersereau AKA Wild Honey from Seattle was there Friday and Saturday. We hung out together at an off-site reading Friday Night. We have corresponded for a number of years and I have one of her poetry books as well. We had a great time - it was an awesome reading. On Saturday, she came and supported me at my reading, on-site, for which I was very appreciative.

I got to meet Katie Manning for the first time. I already had her latest book but was able to pick up an earlier one titled "Tasty Other" which she signed.

The more you go to AWP, the more you realize just how impossible it is to meet everyone you want to. I confess that  I disappointed to miss Carolyn Forche last year in Tampa, but was able to pick up her new memoir that I am currently reading and get her to sign it.

There are always disappointments. I had hoped to meet Francesca Bell. I did get her new book but  I rushed as fast as I could from my reading Saturday to her table and evidently just missed her.

It was nice to see Martha Silano again. Always enjoy seeing Mary Biddinger. She always has book recommendations and her record for picking out books I end up liking is like about 95% - but then Akron Press always publishes really good poets.

I missed seeing  Shaindel Beers, Rachel Mennies (who was not at the event) and Jessica Smith (who did not attend also), Kaveh Akbar and Maggie Smith. So you can see, many time we are all like ships passing in the night.

Overall, Portland was a great conference. I Confess that  I loved the presence that Writer-To-Writer had.  We were all over the place. Our Director Diane Zina Pettyjohn worked very hard with her staff to get W2W the exposure it so deserves.

That's it for now. I'm sure I left out people,  This is a confession. Hopefully, I will be forgiven.

Now if you will excuse me, I have so many new books to read.

Be safe~

Still Appropriate this April

A Carryover from AWP19

I have decided to try making yoga a part of my daily routine. The Yoga session I attended and the panel on yoga and writing have together allowed me to see a clarity of focus that seems on the surface to provide both benefits to the body and writing s well.  

I got a mat on Tuesday and I started with a video session today.  Anyone that has a particular video or YouTube that they really like for Yoga, I'm open to suggestions. 

AWP 19 - Post Script

I've arrived home from Portland. AWP19 is history. It always seems like we run on pure adrenalin. It's like moving forward simply on the inertia that has been building and then, it all comes crashing down after it is over. I think this year was more emotional as it closed out than normal. I had a lot more commitments dictating my schedule and yet I feel it was one of the best.

There was a very big emphasis on the Writer to Writer program this year. We had the normal alumni reception. I spent time volunteering at the booth. We also did an on sight reading of published work by mentee alumni. Several of us talked about planning for future readings at upcoming conferences.  Then there was the Braver Together Gala - a fundraiser for W2W. I was later to it due to volunteer commitment, but it was just one more way the AWP mentorship program was putting itself out there.

One of the fun things about the conference is always the swag.  Who will have the best each year?

Always buttons. One of the most often commented on was the campaign like button for the OXFORD COMMA - 2020!  Actually, this button has been brought out in other years with only the year modified but  I got more comments about it.  Various tens, note pads, notebooks, funky sunglasses, a coffee measuring cup, Temporary Tattoos galore.


I added quite a few books to my library this year.

PR for Poets by Jeannine Hall Gailey

Elegy in the Passive Voice by Allen Braden

Twice Told by Caryl Pagel

Blood Sisters by  Jenifer DeBellis

A Year of Silence by Polly Buckingham

Gravity Assist by Martha Silano

Bright Stain by Francesca Bell

Body of Starlight by Melissa Carroll

Summer Jobs by John Stupp   --  Hawk Parable by Tyler Mills  --  Timbrel by Marianne Mersereau

What You Have Heard is True - Carolyn Forche  --  The House of My Father by Hiwot Adilow

Tasty Other by Katie Manning and a whole host of Literary Reviews & Journals.


IN REAL LIFE:

With Kelli Russell Agodon

So this year I had a chance to meet some people IRL that  I've interacted with but never met face to face.  I learned that Kelli Russell Agodon is not just an enigma.

I also met Annette Covey and Michael Schmeltzer.

I met Katie Manning for the first time and got to hear her read at an off-site reading. Martha Silano was reading there as well, though I had already met her IRL.

Marianne Mersereau  AKA Wild Honey and I met for the first time and we attended the off-site reading mentioned above.

Saturday, Marianne was kind enough to come and support me as I read with  other  Writer to Writer alumni at the
Convention site.

With Katie Manning

With Marianne Mersereau

With Martha Silano

There were some very well done panels.  I found Cheating on Poetry to be very informative. One of the presenters was Beth Ann Fennelly, whose writing I absolutely adore.

I had my first taste of yoga with Melissa Carroll. I am not especially bendy but I was able to hang in there. It felt good, after first being a bit painful. Something that  I believe I will benefit from. Both physically and in terms of meditating and freeing myself for better writing.

The most asked question from the conference, came the day I wore the shirt with the octopus riding the bike and holding an umbrella. And no, I have no idea what the significance the octopus has to Portland.