90% of Writing...

“Writing is 90 percent procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching infomercials.”—Paul Rudnick

So How Is My AWP Coming Along - You Ask?

Yes, thanks for asking.  I have a fair amount of new reading material. Later I will go into details.

You may have heard that AWP has found itself competing with Covad-19.  I began hearing some talk a week ago about the outbreak (which seemed minimal at that point in the US), but was certainly on radars.  Like most other writers I followed the latest CDC news and yes, even the largely suspect White House information.

On March 2nd it was announced that the Board would be issuing a statement on the conference.

By the 3rd, I was aware there were 11 confirmed cases somewhere in Texas.  AWP Board Members were in contact with CDC and the Mayor's office.  A The word was they were moving conference the size of AWP is certainly a financial  liability and asset at the same time.  In Portland last year I believe there were between 14,000 and 15,000. The thousands of exhibitors and time commitments by staff and even members is no small matter. Writers plan way in advance for panels, onsite and offsite readings, and there are an array of big name speakers.

The day before the event opens there is news that the Board of directors painstakingly ruled to move ahead with the event. I have to tell you, writers, AWP members, are social animals. It was suggested that while the conference was moving forward it was with the caveat to caution to curb the greeting enthusiasm.  Such recommendations as loud enthusiastic greetings, no handshakes, hugs, or customary embarrass. Blown kisses only. Thoughtful nods. Wash hands regularly. Use hand sanitizers often. Keep your hands off your face, nose, eyes, you get the drill here - curb the socialization as much as possible.

But when the word can down that the event was a go,  the board indicated that those who were coming could have their financial investment in AWP#20 applied to AWP#21 in Kansas City next year.  In addition,  this tweet was sent out by Diane Zinna one of the co-directors of the conference:

Diane Zinna  @DianeZinna. Mar3  I am broken-harted, but I resigned from AWP this morning over the decision to hold  the conference. I will always love. this community and ask that you please be kind to the board and tiny staff, people who are working so hard and believe in you.

Diane is a very special person to many of us. She created the Writer-to-Writer mentoring program. I am an alumni of the Spring 2017 Session. She has nurtured the program and all of us along the way.  This hit me very hard.

Still, I was preparing to leave at 5:45 in the morning. Besides packing, people that know me well, know that I would be would be up all night, watching Super Tuesday returns.  Those that don't know me well won't  understand this.  But I rolled out of here at 3:00 a.m. for the airport dead tired, but trying to be upbeat.

I should have known it would be a bad morning when I parked in the econo-parking and caught the tram to the terminal. I realized I had left my glasses in the car.  Inside I bought a pair of single vision. to get me through everything, checked my bag and ultimately boarded to the Conference.

I had known for days now that many of my friends were opting not to go. While waiting for my boarding I sifted through a number of Facebook and Twitter feeds.  More were deciding not to go. Oh, I had some friends already there and I rationalized this would give me an opportunity to meet new people (which is always one of my goals).  Then I saw that many of the presses were pulling out and that they were organizing an online or virtual book fair offering some of the normal conference discounts through Sunday.

I can't tell you the last time I flew and had a whole row to myself. I got my own row on the flight to Dallas where I would have a short layover and then on to San Antonio. This would have been great but the whole flight I was hot and the overhead blower was not helping.  My ears popped and I felt miserable.  My anxiety increased. Yes, I thought about. my age, and diabetes as placing me at a higher risk if I contracted Covid-19, but I hd been over that rational for days. What I was really starting to fear was getting to the conference and finding that it was a shell of what it should be.  That some of the panels that were important to me had been canceled and God knows how many more would before it was over.  On the layover I had tweeted some of my friends there already and they all had friends that opted out - pretty much said everyone was choosing to be non-judgmental. If you fell you needed to be there, it's your call. If you feel this one is not for you same. People said they would miss me but life goes on.

There was still the matter of my reading Saturday, and the hotel reservation. I called my wife and  decided to convert my return ticket and fly  home.  I made the other calls to clean up the remaining conference details and was back in Kansas City  later in the afternoon.

So my day today has been busy writing. Following details of conference. A hand full of things are being live streamed. Working on some ideas, and virtually shopping at the book fair. (which requires real money)

So here is what I have coming  as far as new reading material. Some are supposed to be here by tomorrow evening, a couple are new releases for later in the month.

1. Fieldnotes on Ordinary Love by Keith S. Wilson
2. Soft Targets by Deborah Landau
3. Father's Day by Matthew Zapruder
4. I Live in the Country and other Dirty Poems by Arielle Greenberg
5. In the Lateness of the World by Carolyn Forche
6. Like a Bird with a Thousand Wings by Melissa Studdard
7. Partial Genius - Prose Poems by Mary Biddinger
8. Slide to Unlock by Julie E. Bloemeke
9. The Long White Cloud of Unknowing by Lisa Samuels  

That's the book purchases so far.

By the way - I am especially. happy with my writing so far today.   

Will catch a livestream of the Keynote address this evening. 

The one thing you cannot replicate besides seeing friends, is the swag. I will miss the #W2W Reception and the swag. 

2020 BLUEPRINT

“Remove ‘shoulds’ from your vocabulary this year. Start your journey of self-love now.” —Kelly Martin

2019 and the whole decade that it represents is finished. What is left is smoldering memories. Some of them are good but most represent average or worse elements of my life. 

Mid-day today I attended a workshop at Core Balance Yoga that was nearly mat to mat in the studio. There were 23 of us and the instructor and we might have scrunched one more yogi in a cover but that would be it. There was a glitch in the software that allowed more than the limit to sign up on line. It happened so it must have meant to be. We made it work. 

The session was a 90 minute combination of yoga, guided meditation and journaling exercises designed to lead each of us to what would become a personal guiding word for 2020. The logic was that we can easily shed a resolution by screwing up and then feeling we have failed move on leaving it behind.

Out of my session, there were a series of words that flowed out of my journaling and meditation and the more meaningful ones came down to fulfillment, focus, vision, and authentic.  I have not as of this moment centered in on one word. Kristin, our instructor said some people actually use a couple or three words to carry with them throughout the year. I would like to minimize this as much as possible. 

Even prior to today's event, I have been thinking about the symbolic nature of 2020 and perfect vision. Working through dreams and hopes, I've been pointed to manuscript completion. Challenges to improve / perfect yoga practice. Achieve publication from a list of tougher reputation Journals or Reviews.

I already know that I have improve my own self worth, be guided by gratitude, and embody love of self and others. The past couple of years, truth has come to mean anything and nothing. In 2020, truth has to mean more to me. It has to reflect in me the embodiment of authenticity.  Being real, honest and genuine. 

So, I don't really have a resolution of sorts, but I see developing a roadmap or blueprint of something akin to a guiding light. I'm ready for a year that glows with joy, peace, art, fulfillment, and support of others. 

Assimilation of Yoga , Writing, and Life in General

I am trying to achieve some assimilation of yoga into my daily living, and into my writing. 

Yoga takes discipline for starters. This is something that would likely help across many areas of my life. 

The byproduct contributing to a calming or peaceful presence that allows for a more meditative state of being; where yesterday and tomorrow are pushed aside to make way for being in the present. That is where we can find ourselves, stripped down of the weighted anxieties that we tend to carry. 

I'm not able to say that I have my meditative practice perfect. Still, I believe that I am becoming more receptive that inner silence and where that might lead. It seems kind of like nibbling on a cracker when wine tasting. A way to clear the pallet for the next new taste.  In this way, I can be receptive to the experience of new ways of bringing fresh material to the page. 

Confession Tuesday - The original lava lamp edition

Dear Reader:

It's been an extensive lava eruption in Hawaii, a 5 & 8 Record for my  Giants (who play tonight), an improving left knee, damage to a tendon in my left heel, some writing  frustration, a feeling of being overwhelmed, more to the ongoing story of Trump Fucks Up America, one more school shooting, sporadic reading, being out of control with my eating, and two weeks since my last confession.

Reader, it's been a strange beauty/horror as I watch pictures from Hawaii. The flow of lava seems to follow the path of least resistance and therefore threaten both people and man-made property that stand in its way. This is another reminder that mother nature holds tremendous power over both beauty and destruction. I confess this is the power nature holds over us, abundant beauty and terror.  Someone must be writing about this!

I am frustrated with writing and reading. I've been doing a fair amount of writing but not so good on reading. And to the extent that I am cracking out words, I don't feel I am happy whit what I am writing. Oh, sure there are bits and pieces that and extraordinary but things are not coming together.  I had planned on entering a contest this month and had pieces that I wanted to rework or polish up for it. I became so disillusioned with myself that as the 15th deadline came and went, I did not have it in me to work anymore on these pieces and I just chucked it all in. I told myself I needed to own this decision and not look back on it with regret,  I confess to being disappointed in myself but that is not the same as regret.

Another school shooting takes innocent lives. I confess that  I have more resolve to cast votes for candidates that reflect the belief we can make a difference - and this issue is guns, not exits, not arming teachers, not allowing more guns in the open community.

There is this reading issue. I'm not reading enough. It's not from lack of books. I confess that I subscribe to the adage that writers must be constantly reading far more material than the write. I'm going to do better on this starting today!

Last but not least, I confess that I have been far too enamored with potato chips and ice cream. These two items have become a food group ion my food chain.  Comfort food?  Items that I can't break away from because of the taste. I don't know. I confess it has just been a problem this past couple of weeks.

I had the opportunity to see several women that belonged to a poetry group that has not met in some time.  It was very nice to see Joyce, Brenda, and Mary (who I haven't seen in good Lord, maybe two years?

That's it for tonight. May you breathe in the fullness of life and watch out for the lava.

Confession Tuesday - First Class Fantasy

Another week already?  How does that happen?  I'm off to the confessional, come along.

Dear Reader:

It's been two surreal weeks since my mother passed away, one new released book review, another poetry book ordered, countless poem drafts written, one submission deadline overlooked, a free bottle of Chardonnay and a major pain in the neck since my last confession.

Last week I mentioned how my mother's death was like fake news. Yes, I was there and witnessed the final breaths, but everything since has been surreal. She did not want a funeral, was cremated per her wishes, and so it is like I just walked away from her that evening and that was it. I confess that I remain bothered by the fact that nothing has changed two weeks later. I don't think there has been a real outlet for grief and that seems like it's never going to happen and that feels totally awkward, unnatural, fake. It's like her death is fake news. Unreal.

So, I've got to do better, A submission deadline for some work I've been tinkering with came and went on November 15. I thought I still had plenty of time (which is partly because I still can't believe it is November already) until it hit me today that we've passed that already. The thing that sucks is that this is among my favorite journals and I always try to submit to it each year. Yeah, I don't have to confess that I'm not especially organized at the moment, but I'm definitely trying to get there. I will be making better use of my planner, that's for sure.

It seems the more I write, the fussier I get about my writing. So, I've been writing up a storm and I confess that you could say that I'm not too pleased with the weather.

I got a bottle of 2016 Lamoreaux Landing Chardonnay that one of the bosses brought in the other day. He had been to a wine event and came back with a number of bottles of wine and sent out an email saying they were here for the taking, one per person. When I was able to get away and check it out, there were only two remaining bottles left. One was Chardonnay and the other some red that I would never drink. I confess I am a Chardonnay person so this match was meant to be.  I haven't opened it yet, but I will when I'm relaxing over the holiday. I'll pop the cork, pour a glass, and snack on two Biscoff cookies and pretend I' heading somewhere fun - flying first class.

Evidently, I slept wrong the other night because my neck has been tormenting me daily since. I confess that it cracks and pops so loud it scares me sometimes. That can't be a good thing. I'm just saying.

Until next time, may your week ahead be better than the one that just ended.

*Note - My review of  Thrush by Heather Derr-Smith can be found here.

Confession Tuesday - Getting Organized Edition

Bullet Journal

Dear Reader:

It has been two weeks since my last confession. Two weeks of way too much Donald Trump exposure. Please make him go away! The culmination of a long wait to learn if I was accepted for a program I applied for. And not a period of questioning myself.

To the Confessional, let us begin...

It is Lent and I've not been a very good Lenten observer thus far. I usually think in advance what I see my self doing and not doing over Lent and how it might make me a better person. I really fell down this year. I think Lent coming so early in the year, it was like it sneaked up one me.  I confess that is the best argument I have and I'm sticking with it. I my defense, for other reasons I was very prayerful over the last few weeks, but not on account of lent. So there has been a spiritual dimension to my recent life. I could tell you that I am going to give this up or that up for the rest of Lent but I won;t go there. I am not going to make any such promises. I will however remain prayerful for others and their various difficulties this time of year.

The presidential election is in full swing and I am tired of Donald Trump. I confess it would not matter if we were not in the midst of the campaign season. I find his verbiage to be counter productive to the health of our democracy. I find him thoughtless, rude, disrespectful, bullying, racially inflammatory and that is just the start. If I keep on I'll still be writing about this in time for next weeks confession. I want it to stop. I want him to stop. Alas I am powerless to end his rhetoric, and I acknowledged this and move on.

I have been a basket case for some weeks now awaiting word on a program I applied for (related to writing) and I have heard that I was not chosen.  This is my third attempt and  I have been told in the past that  my application and work made it to consideration and have been encouraged to reapply.  I want in this program so badly and I have to say that each time the wait is excruciating.  The aftermath is disappointing. I confess that it makes no sense but  upon learning again that  I missed getting selected I basically wanted to just stop writing. Then I wanted to just stop submitting work, just write and throw it in a drawer or something like that. I cannot stop writing, it's too much a part of who I am. But I could maybe decide to just decide to write for myself and nothing more.

I confess that  every once and a while there is something that causes me to question why I should be writing. It's happened numerous times. Usually it is because I'm in a funk and haven't written anything promising in a while. But this is different. I actually  had pulled out of a writing  slump and was going well. I just saw this as a real opportunity to grow even more and learn from the experience.

As a Capricorn I tend to want to be organized. I confess that I am well aware that there is a difference between craving organization and living it.  At work I have used a Franklin Planner System for maybe 20 years or more. Recently I've been exposed to the Bullet Journal and I have now tinkered with it for two months. I am starting to feel more comfortable with it. So much so, that  I've ordered on of the specific Bullet Journals this past week as they became available again. I had been using my own makeshift one, but starting win March I will begin to use the new journal.

In my mailbox this evening was the March/April edition of The Writer's Chronicle. I believe I will wrap this confession up for the night and read a bit in it - the finish off the evening  writing.

Till next time,

The Muse be with you!

Confession Tuesday - Mood Ring Edition

Dear Reader...

Forgive me as I rush in at the 11th hour to make my confession. It's been a week of highs and lows since my last confession. Like the weather over this week my mood has risen and dropped like the mercury in a thermometer.

Some of you may remember the mood rings that became the rage in the mid-1970's. The ring changed colors based upon the warmth projected from your body. The color of the ring would signify the mood of the wearer. For instance an Indigo or darker blue meant the person was deeply relaxed, happy, love-struck, etc. Black might mean fear, angst, serious, overworked or  depressed. Orange was stressed, nervous, confused, challenged... you get the picture.

In general the week has been more upbeat then down. I had a really good weekend. Lots of writing and writing related stuff accomplished and that made me happy. Actually the better part of last week was good.
I confess that a staffing shortage at work added to my stress and I felt myself moving between black and orange. (yes, the colors of my San Francisco Giants)

I confess that when I cam home Monday night I was so exhausted I dropped in bed until I could relax a bit and then got up to eat. The staff shortage will continue for a few  weeks and that certainly accentuates the anxiety. Tonight, I almost  brushed off Confession altogether, but I didn't.

Here I am and I have to say that the one thing that I have learned this past week is that  I really seem to get a rush of sorts when I am engaged in writing and writing related activities.  I don't know if it produces endorphins or  what, but there is definitely a bump upward in my mood.

Funny that  even doing  submissions makes me fee happy. Is that crazy? There was a time that I dreaded, no actually hated doing submissions.

I still get frustrated at times when writing. Hell I get frustrated when anything I'm doing doesn't go like I want it to, but on the whole I am realizing that writing is an uplifted for me. Like a SAD lamp in winter, there clearly seems to be therapeutic value in my writing. People talk about all the "depressed poets" or the well know poets and writers that have taken their own lives like there is a strong link between the two. I've felt that myself at times. But right now, the place I'm in this moment is 180 degrees opposite.

So, next time I'm feeling a little down, pardon me while I get high on  writing.


Blessings to you all this week!

Writer's Anguish

Daniel Kalder writing in the Guardian takes on the matter of writers who self-censor in a fascinating piece that opened my eyes with a bit of history about many authors who have penned work that they subsequently destroyed rather then all publication or in some instances sought and failed to keep the material from seeing the light of day.

Examples of writers and their anguish over what might be published and in the instance of Nikolai Gogol one has to wonder if his decision to burn his work was not more anguish then he could take as he stopped eating and died.

I generally have though of self-censorship more in terms of having ideas or simply general topics I am too uncomfortable to write about. I know these can be sources of great anguish and maybe at times hamper a writer from perhaps moving their work from say one level to something more profound. Maybe it isn't so much a specific idea or topic that would make that extraordinary piece but just having something, anything holding back is like putting a stopper in a bottle.

Interesting article - read it here.

In the Spirit of Giving and Taking....

I have only the faintest delineation of Thanksgiving 2011 and Christmas 2011.  This emanates largely because I've been ill during both.  Not quite the same illness but I'm sure one is related to the other so like everything else presently the lines seem a bit blurred.

One thing that has seemed permanent during this period is my writing has been best described as ill as well.  And there I go... the better or stronger adjective surly is sick! See what I mean?

Over and over I've tried kick starting stuff with free-writes, prompts you name it. I pretty certain the the Grinch stole my creativity. He sucked it right out of me!

So the past couple of days I've stepped back and taken a look at creativity and writing in general through the eyes of others.  This is the "taking" part and sharing it here with you is the "giving."

Robert McCrum writing for the Guardian in his Fifty things I've learned about the literary life had a few interesting point to ponder.  Some of the ones that struck me as the most interesting are:

• Less is more. Or, "the only art is to omit" (Robert Louis Stevenson). This is probably even more relevant to poetry. *Note to self: stop over writing.
• A great novel can cost as much as a pencil and a pad of paper – or a whole life.  *I think the same can be said about poetry books.
• In writers, vanity is the cardinal sin.
• Keep a diary. It might keep you.
• The "overnight success" is usually anything but.
• Literature is theft. *This has to be true... I've heard so many variations of it.
• Ebooks are not the end of the world. Ebooks are not the end of the world. Ebooks are not the end of the world. *Okay, if you say so. (heavy sigh)
•  A secret is something that is only repeated to one person at a time.
• Everything is fiction. *Even confessional poetry. By the same token, all poetry is true (in some contest)!
• Amazon is not "evil" (J Daunt).
• Poets are either the lions or the termites of the literary jungle. * While I have no idea what he's suggesting here, I liked the way it sounded so it makes my list.

Other things that I've come upon in my search for greater wisdom in the pursuit of creativity in my writing:

According to psychologist Dr. Robert Epstein, "External factors such as stress play a much heavier role in determining innovation than anything intrinsic."  Have I been stressed out lately? Do bears shit in the woods?

I ran across three quotes that all hit home with me.  Only one do I actually know the author of and I hate to post something without attributing it to it's author (so if anyone knows the source of these please speak up):

"It's not what you look at that matters it's what you see."  - unknown

"When you are stuck walk away from the computer. It will teach you how to see."  - Gerard Huerta

And lastly - "Art Is what you can get away with." - unknown

After all this I get the feeling that successful writing is really pretty simple. That is not to say it is easy, but simply. Perhaps the hardest part is to not overthink. To simply be quiet and listen to yourself, be observent and open it new and different views. Actually write and do so often but be willing to step back as needed and allow yourself to see the view through an different portal.

To rub meaning from moments

When I was reading Laurie Rachkus Uttich's Why We Write in the Sept/Oct Poets and Writers it struck me how important observation is to writers of all genres. Even when we protest that a poem is not about us, it really is about how we perceive the world around us. If I say all I need is a pin and paper to write I've really simplified things and missed a very significant ingredient in any writing recipe.

I found Uttich's essay thought provoking and believe she would be exciting teacher to study under, what I liked most and will stick with me was her following words:

"We observe and analyze, rub meaning from moments,

And yet none of it is truly real to us until we write it down,

And when we don't write, we end up on our knees."

Reoccurring Themes



It is my feeling that Time ripens all things; with Time all things are revealed; Time is the father of truth.  ~   Francois Rabelais

Time tends to be one of the reoccurring themes in my own poetry.  What are some of your reoccurring themes?

Photo credit: DesertUSA.com and Digital West Media, Inc.

Do no wrong

Writing away - in free write while listening to my playlist. No care given to what comes out - it's choppy and all over the map and that's cool because I will come back to it on another day and mine for gold. For now it's words - phrases and that is  all that matters. I can do no wrong.

Constantly Comparing Yourself To Other Artists

Before I delve into this, let me reference a post on The Book of Kells where Kelli Agodon shares a list of How to Feel Miserable as an Artist (Or What Not to Do).  There are 10 entries to this list and two that especially jump out at me are numbers 1 & 8.  I'm thinking I will over the next couple of weeks post a response to all of these but for today. Number 1 it is!

When I was reading the list and saw the very first item I thought, Don't we all? Is there anyone who doesn’t compare yourself to other artists? Do I see any hands? I didn't think so. I think I do it in so many ways.... so and so just won the Best Darned Chapbooks Award this side of the Mississippi Award and what have I won lately. Suzy-Q has 7 poems in No-Tell Motel this month or Sam has poems in three journals in a month.... what have I got **heavy sigh**

The inclination is to use others as a yard stick to decide how you measure up. Right now if I list my top 10 favorite poets and you ask me to write next to their name when I think I might measure up to each of them beside their name I can tell you the answer in each case is going to be the same. Never!

The odds are each of them probably can make a similar list and likely answer it the same. In art especially, I'm pretty sure that we do the yard-stick test with others and it is a failing proposition.

Any one of the ten items on the list is probably not a healthy activity but when we start collecting 3 or four or more of these faults, I'm pretty sure that a frustrated if not miserable artist begins to emerge.

When someone I know has a new book come out I try to make a conscious effort to congratulate them. First of all being supportive of your peers is a good thing. But if we don't look at these achievements of others in a positive light I thing the opposite begins to creep in and take over our psyche. We start to feel short changed and even jealous. I have several friends who have new books that have recently come out or are due out in a matter of weeks. It becomes so easy to allow their successes to place you and an important manuscript project you are working on into a "woe is me mode" and then you start to think about it and you say as rationalization, "ah yes, but I'm not that good and I never will be."

I know if you are a writer you have doubted yourself. And probably by comparison to some other writer. So share your secrets... when you realized that you've slipped on this slippery slope how do you get yourself back on your two feet?

What am I Doing this Week?

It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.  ~ Anais Nin



It's a new week.  I'm thinking about Anais Nin's words.  I'm thinking about the difference between writing and writing that is meaningful. Note to self... Step back and look at what you write and revise this week. Even if it is about the familiar, how does it offer a fresh perspective, a different view or image. Am I writing or is this meaningful. If it is not meaningful can I call it art?

**sigh**

It has occurred to me that I have a growing number of early drafts in journal and saved in various places that I need to get organized better so that I can actually go to them to work on them.

For a while I was really good about organizing these but it's gotten out of hand.

Passing on a little advise....

Some great advise from Robert Peake's workshop - “Tactics for Sneaky Poets” posted on his site.

Some of my favorite advise:

• Use constraints. Use word groups, poetic forms, made-up assignments from friends. Constraints spark creative freedom.
• Write briefly and often. Robert Hass said, “You can do your life’s work in forty minutes per day.” Write often enough to stay “in the game,” usually several times per week. Set a time limit. You can go over if needed.
• Write bad. Try to write a “bad” poem. It gets you wild and free. Sometimes the harder you try to be bad, the better it gets.
• Keep a scroll. In addition to keeping going on a poem, try keeping one big document of poems and poem-snippets, so you’re never at the beginning, just in the flow. Pick up wherever you last left off, write in the date, and just go.

By the way, a collection of Robert's poems will appear in the Lost Horse Press-New Poets Short Books Series, edited by Marvin Bell.  The book is scheduled for publication in February 2011. Sign up on Robert's e-mail list to be notified when the book becomes available for pre-order.

Monday Mentions

A few things in no particular order of importance...

• It's banned Book Week and in recognition thereof, the following quote by Justice Potter Stewart - Censorship reflects society's lack of confidence in itself.  It is a hallmark of an authoritarian regime. 
• I was delighted to get my copy of Letters From The Emily Dickinson Room in the mail Saturday. It was in the quiet of the afternoon that I read it through completely the first time. I will have more to say about it later this week, but I was so impressed by it I could not out it down.
• The Top Ten Ludicrous Reasons To Ban A Book
• The Ten Muses of Poetry
• I find the following both a disheartening and frightening aspect of the President's position on privacy.
• TAKE A POEM - LEAVE A POEM

Love this quote

Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains; God composes, why shouldn't we? ~Terri Guillemets

Thought for the week ahead...

It is perfectly okay to write garbage--as long as you edit brilliantly.  - C. J. Cherryh