Unconscious Mutterings - Week 381

You say.... I think:

• 1.Labor ::  pool
• 2.Sweater ::  cardagan
• 3.Five minutes ::  drill
• 4.Treatment ::  center
• 5.Eyebrows ::  dark
• 6.Awake :: laying
• 7.Salmon ::  spawning
• 8.Red ::  snapper
• 9.Hospital ::  medical
• 10.Midwife ::  delivery

get your own list here

Poetry in the News

Gregory Cowles blogs in the NY Times on Poetry

 Does Poetry Matter?

Sometimes the planets align and you start seeing the same idea discussed by different people everywhere you look, as if your brain had stumbled late at night across a niche cable station broadcast by the universe itself. For me lately the show has been all about the relevance of poetry, as in: Is poetry relevant? Even among poets there seems to be a nervous consensus that it’s not.

~0~
 
I'm glad the poetry sidewalk public works venture is still thriving in St. Paul, Minnesota 
 
St. Paul Public Works officials Wednesday announced the winners of the 2010 Sidewalk Poetry Contest. The city annually replaces approximately 10 miles of sidewalk as part of its regular maintenance program. To date, 26 different poems have been stamped into 260 locations around the city


~0~


Ask the Experts: Carmen Gillespie on poetry

This week, we asked Professor of English Carmen Gillespie to talk about the importance of poetry in our daily lives. Essence recently named Gillespie one of its "Forty Favorite Poets" in honor of the magazine's 40th anniversary. Gillespie was recognized for her poem, "Lining the Rails," about her maternal family.


~0~

Just the Fact, Ma'am: The Statistics of a Manuscript shared by the poet author

The first poem mentions crumb cake and the penultimate poem mentions crumb cake. I cannot tell you the last lines in the collection as that will hopefully be a gift to you when/if you read it, but I can tell you the first and last poems mention "passion" (not the Mel Gibson movie) and have references to Alice in Wonderland in a couple ways along with Emily Dickinson if you're paying attention. ;-)

Spins

The knots are tight

laced lies that hug

her waist

she sees them
for what she wants
to make of them

one day blunders
another she blames
on her genes

Rainy Day

The rain slipped past us

like a line cutter

and puddles glare upward

frown and all

It was a day that stuck me

in the eye

with the tact of Donald Trump

and plagiarized my distaste

Across the Walkway

Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler.  ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Unconscious Mutterings - week 380

You say, I think:

• 1.Rock n Roll :: Hall of Fame
• 2.Be with you :: together
• 3.Richard :: Simmons
• 4.Hair ::  piece
• 5.Police :: Cop
• 6.Experience :: job
• 7.Father figure :: Cosby
• 8.Nice ::  day
• 9.Switch :: light
• 10.Appearance :: guest

Get your own list here

Confession Tuesday - White Fudge Almond Divinity Edition

Oh Dear…Another Tuesday has arrived and time to head to the Confessional… so let’s get started.

Dear Reader I believe there must be another commandment that was somehow lost from the original stone tablets. The 11th commandment I'm pretty sure must have instructed us not to covet all of the Wells’ Blue Bunny White Fudge Almond Divinity Ice Cream. I must confess that I am very guilty of this 11th commandment. I not only covet all of it that comes into our household, but I want all of it that is produced. I want it… I want it… I WANT IT! I will confess this is a seriously sinful gluttonous want. (Unless this was not already obvious).

While we are talking about excesses… this month I managed to win six poetry books from the Poetry Month Book Give-a-way. I confess I feel a little guilty about this, like I should not have been so lucky… but they are poetry books. I mean can anyone get too many poetry books? Really?

This must be the week of excesses. Thanks for listening… may all your excesses this week be good ones.

Overdue Journal Bits

  I’m a little overdue for a for a posting of journal bits so here goes. The following are a sampling of my recent journal writings.

I keep a common journal. It includes journaling about life, writing drafts, quotes I find that strike my fancy. And occasionally one of my completed poems after many rewrites

May 8 – [observation]  While labels are necessary to the existence of language, they also have the potential to be a detriment to mankind.

May 6 - [observation] Last nights Mary Oliver reading got me to thinking about my place in the family of things.

May 5 – the room swings / an awkward stroll through the park / the windows dance on the walls

the bed is a boat afloat / that I am at a loss to reach

May 3 – I was not good to writing over the weekend. I neglected it and did not especially realize it until today.

April 29 – pushed back from the walls / an echo rebuking me / when I wanted to walk away but did not

April 26 – Macaroni and cheese must be the ultimate comfort food of my generation. I think there is a poem somewhere here.

 

Technorati Tags: journal bits

Times for Poetry to Thrive

 

‘The trouble with our times is that the future is not what it used to be.'’  ~Paul Valery

When I was maybe 7 years old and thought about the future my recollection is I recall it involving space exploration. Not my personal future mind you, but in the broadest sense, the future of mankind. At that tender age, it even seemed believable. You see, as far away as the future seemed to me, there was a level of expectation involved in it.

Not all my expectations of the future seemed to be positive or exciting. At age 8 to 9 I also lived as many at the time did in fear of nuclear warheads dropping out of the sky. This fear of course had a far greater rational aspect to it at that time then my thoughts of exploring space and even visiting the moon. And this latter threat was at that time as much about the present even more that the future. As the Cuban Missile crisis ended, the threat of future nuclear war did not. It remains a possibility today and in fact seems even more likely from a rogue entity  then any foreign nation.

There are so many aspects of changes in society today that demonstrate the remarkable rate of new advances in medicine and technology that make thinking about future advances a mind spinning exercise. This gives credence to Paul Valery’s quote… the future is just not what it used to be.

It was not all that long ago that Sarah Palin was being introduced to a crowded convention hall in Denver, Colorado and the rest of the nation as the Republican Vice Presidential Candidate.  That night she brought the people to their feet with signs and chants of “Drill-Baby-Drill,” a slogan that would spill over into rallies around the country that lasted well past the election and continued until recently and now we only shake our heads over a different spill over into the gulf region that is slowly trying to regain some measure of what it was before hurricane Katrina blighted the region.

We are more interwoven into the economic fabric of the rest of the world that things can happen overnight on the other side of the globe and we find ourselves dramatically impacted by it.  You are no doubt wondering where if anyplace I am going with all this. If you were expecting solutions, I am sorry, I have none to offer. These  are painful times for many and sadly for many, they are paying the price of a greedy few. I could tell you that I believe I see some positive signs by our government, but as the Old Breton fisherman’s prayer that John F. Kennedy liked to quote goes, "Oh God, Thy sea is so great and my boat is so small." I do however believe that for the rest of us, these are the times best made for poetry. Times when we need things to bind us together. Things we hold in common like language.

It was at the Mary Oliver reading this past week that this remarkable lady who is not a world leader, not a legislator, not a religious figure, not even an editorialist, but rather a simple poet; quite likely unknowingly instilled a degree of peace and spirituality upon us that I’m sure made that short period of time together worth much more than any of us might have imagined in advance.

I hope throughout this year already filled with much uncertainty, poets will write and readers will read and we will all be blessed by poems that touch that place where our hearts and minds meet.

Technorati Tags: poetry now more than ever

What I'm Reading...

Presently I have two new poetry books on my reading stack. They are Circle by Victoria Chang  and Thirst by Mary Oliver.   I addition, I have several other poetry books that are coming my way so I will be busy with new material for a few weeks.

I've previously read Salvinia Molesta by Chang and I'm excited to be reading Circle . When I've finished I'll post my review of it.

Oliver Reading Wednesday Night

Wednesday evening I drove to Lawerence, Kansas after work to hear Mary Oliver read at the Leid Center for Preforming Arts. I suppose my only dissapointment of the evening was that I was unable to use the camera on my new Blackberry as it was announced that Ms Oliver had requested no photos be taken. Therefore, I cannot take credit for the photo at the left.


Leid Hall is a marvalous venue for arts. Modern, accustically sound, physically comfortable in seating. I have no idea for certain what the attendence was but it was easily 400 or more.


This was my first live contact with Mary Oliver and I came away with a few thoughts about who she is and how that informs her work.  She appears to me not at all a very complex person. She did not impress me as someone who carries the real her inside a fake facide but rather is transparent.  I think you pretty much get the genuine Mary Oliver right away.
I would describe her in these words:

• humble
• peaceful
• spiritual though not perhaps not religiously traditional
• a naturalist
• accessible (a word that causes me to cringe)
• private

Much of what Mary Oliver read to us was captivating in that she either prefaced each poem with a related story or the poem itself would tell a story. Not necessaraly with some deep moral or philosophical meaning, as was with the case of the poems she read about her dog Percy, but there were others in which the poems would raise questions... not necessarly answered.  So her poetry  tended to be bathed in subtle humor or invite questions... on or the other.


There was at the center of this reading, a person at profound peace with herself. So much so that I could not help but feel the presence of peace. I enjoyed the reading atmosphere which was quite different from what I normally attend. I picked up a copy of her book Thurst.  There were newer ones that looked especially interesting but this book had some poems that I felt my wife might enjoy as well. There is always hope. ;)


After I've finished it I will review it here.

Just a Thought...

I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.  ~ Pablo Neruda

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday is here… time for me to unburden myself with all the stuff I need to confess, except I’m not especially feeling like a pack mule today so I’m not sure where this is leading. Anyway, to the confessional…

Dear reader…

I do have to confess that I have not really written this weekend or even last night. I’ve had only a few sentences of jottings in my journal, but nothing like what I am accustomed to. The weekend was busy though not especially in a productive sort of way. The lack of creativity has left my brain feeling a little numb on one side. I will have to nourish it better these next few days.

Last night as I pulled into the drive I saw two doves in our walkway between the drive and steps. I love to watch doves. I don’t recall seeing any in our neighborhood since we moved out here (about 10 years ago) but my daughter and I used to watch them from out door when we lived over in the city. It also seemed odd that they were out and about at 6 p.m. – we always used to see them in the early morning. I confess that as I attempted to capture them on my Blackberry camera I was totally inept. I’m still trying to get used to the change of phones and this has resulted in accidentally dialing my mother late at night, calling my daughter and confessing that I was not really trying to reach her, being stuck trying to close down Pandora on my phone, and sending an unfinished (like three word) email to another poet.

I must also confess that I have been lax lately in blogging. Aside from last nights quick post about the Mary Oliver last night I have not posted since the 29th of April and that is a big lapse for me. Even last the Oliver post was basically a quick cut and paste of information to quickly get the world out as it suddenly hit me that it had been rescheduled and was almost here. I will try and do better.

Last night I mowed our lawn which I swear I could hear growing this past week. The Iris pictured above was in our yard and was taken with my Blackberry phone. This is not a confession – just a statement of fact. ;)

I would be remiss if I did not confess my excitement and gratitude for winning some poetry books in the Poetry Month Book Give-A-Way.

Thanks everyone for indulging me - now go have a good day!

Mary Oliver Event Rescheduled for Wednesday…

NEWS RELEASE
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE CONTACT

POET MARY OLIVER RESCHEDULED FOR MAY

LAWRENCE – The Hall Center for the Humanities is pleased to announce that Mary Oliver’s visit has been rescheduled. Celebrated poet and winner of the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize, Mary Oliver will visit KU as part of the Hall Center for the Humanities’ 2009-2010 Humanities Lecture Series. Best known for her poetry’s lyrical connection to the natural world, Oliver will do a reading and take questions from the audience on Wednesday, May 5 at 7:30 p.m. at the Lied Center. This free event, supported by the Sosland Foundation of Kansas City, is open to the public. Kansas Public Radio is a co-sponsor.

The public will have a second opportunity to visit with the poet during “A Conversation with Mary Oliver,” which will take place at the Hall Center Conference Hall on Thursday, May 6 at 10:00 a.m. The author of 18 collections of poetry, most notably the Pulitzer Prize-winning American Primitive (1983) and New and Selected Poems, Volume One (1992), which garnered a National Book Award, Oliver is firmly established among the most accomplished of American poets. She is especially renowned for her evocative and precise imagery, which brings nature into clear focus, transforming the everyday world into a place of magic and discovery. Her most recent collections are The Truro Bear and Other Adventures (2008), new poems and beloved classics about creatures of all sorts, and Evidence (2009). Red Bird (2008) was an immediate national bestseller.Mary Oliver has received the Lannan Foundation Literary Award, the New England Booksellers Association Award for Literary Excellence, and the Poetry Society of America’s Shelley Memorial Award, among others. In 1980, her creativity and skill were recognized with a Guggenheim Fellowship. Oliver attended Ohio State University and Vassar College, then a women’s college. Over the past two decades she has taught at various colleges and universities – Case Western Reserve, Bucknell, Sweet Briar College, the University of Cincinnati and Bennington College in Vermont.

Founded in 1947, the Humanities Lecture Series is the oldest continuing series at the University of Kansas. More than 150 eminent scholars from around the world have participated in the program, including author Vladimir Nabokov, painter Thomas Hart Benton and author Aldous Huxley. Recent speakers have included Samantha Power, Michael Chabon, and T. R. Reid. Shortly after the program’s inception, a lecture by one outstanding KU faculty member was added to each year’s schedule.

For more information, please contact the Hall Center at hallcenter@ku.edu or call (785) 864-4798.                   # # #

Technorati Tags: Mary Oliver,Poetry

April is going…going…almost gone

It’s the eve of the final day of National Poetry Month. I’m conflicted as I write this tonight because I have been somewhat remiss personally in making the most of this month. I started NaPoWriMo and regular readers will already know, I bailed on it last week. For the past three years I’ve printed nicely produced broadsides to give away, but I departed from that this year, largely as a cutback in spending. In past years I’ve done other things- such as daily quotes by poets or favorite poems. For Poem-In-Your-Pocket day (today) I did carry a favorite W.S. Merwin poem on small slips of paper that I gave out to some of the people I cane in contact with. I carried this out with a sense of duty to inflict poetry on others.  ;)
Still, there have been remarkable things happen this month.  I participated in a 120 hour poetry filibuster reading to set a new record for continuous poetry reading passing the old record of 56 hours and 25 minutes set in 1978. We were successful in reaching the 120 mark and it was all documented in video.Also on the personal front, I had two poems accepted for publication this month.
I noted today that until mid-night tonight you can cast your vote for the Poet Laureate Of The Blogosphere. This is the 5th year I believe that this annual vote has been held.
Poet Kelli Russell Agodon has orchestrated the participation of some 55 poets and publishers all giving away at least 2 poetry books each in drawings this month. If you’ve not entered, you can find the list on the sidebar of her blog and quickly enter them, but time is running out. Each of the poets and publishers participating obviously are a important part of making this awesome April event – but Kelli has been organizer, solicitor and cheerleader as the event has grown to what it has become. Over 110 books – can you believe it?!! Kelli tirelessly has been promoting poetry – but then she seems does this year round. 
Has poetry month been good to you or challenging? Tell me about your Poetry month activities. 

Technorati Tags: National Poetry Month,NaPoWriMoiMo,Kelli Russell Agodon,Poet Laureate of the blogosphere,poetry filibuster

Confession Tuesday - The Trash Edition

If tomorrow is trash day… this must be Confession Tuesday. Come with me to the confessional.


Dear Reader~


If I may speak of trash day for a moment… I confess to having missed paying the trash bill. This of course leads to no trash pick up. We should be good tomorrow, but the trash man will get an extra dose of trash. ~0~


The yesterday in a conversation with a co-worker there was a discussion of food people stay away from. I confess, as I did then, that there are a number of food items I will not eat. To name a few, mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise (don’t even like to say that word… it creeps me out) to name a few. I don’t do toad stools – they are fungus for God’s sake. There are more, but you get the picture. I confess that I may be an OCD food person. Let me go further on this point. When eating food on my plate, I will often stick to finishing on dish before moving on to the next. Especially if there is something I’m crazy over on the menu. If this is the case, I confess that I don’t want to share my taste buds with anything but that food. I will often save it till last and not for example meander all over the plate, a bite of corn, a taste of roll and then onto another. I prefer not to commingle my food that way. Odd, I know. ~0~


Feeling the obligation to speak of poetry here, and since I am confessing, I am a NaPoWrMo failure for 2010. I’m raising my hand as I confess so that all may see. (Woof whistle) “Yeah, over here, I’m talking about ME!” Last week I threw in the towel and said f*** it.


You see, I had gotten behind a day and continued running behind a day for about three days and was not happy with what I was writing anyway, so I just decided the world was not going to end if I stopped. Little did I know, my wife was going to miss reading them. She sent me an e-mail to that effect and I then stopped and wrote one and sent it to her.


I’ve written since, I just am not following the prompts from “poetic asides” which I was not as impressed with this year as last. It seemed like everything was something (filling the blank) or (fill in the blank) something. I’m not trying to blame the prompt maker for my failure; I’m just saying this didn’t add much extra incentive to remain committed to the write.


So there you have it… standing bare before you… you see me as I am.

Unconscious Mutterings Week 378

You Say.... I think:

• 1.Hell :: go to
• 2.Scott :: Dred
• 3.Dominion :: over earth
• 4.Stunt :: driver
• 5.Cougar :: wild cat
• 6.Columbia :: sportswear
• 7.Gasp :: surprised
• 8.Cancerous :: cigarettes
• 9.Bitty :: Beans
• 10.Quit :: fed up

Get your own list here

Dogs Dream in Splotches

Dogs dream in splotches
all my dreams are linear

I wish for them the color
of my dreams—  but I want novellas
not epics.


I want my dreams to stay in one place
for a while—  my mind is weary
of the night time journeys;


I long for one that cuddles up to me
not orders me to march in night madness
bayonet at my back across continents
for years on end...   Just a little smudge will do—
till morning comes.

The Darnedest Things

The rain seems to have settled in for a spell. Ominous looking sky moved in and had sort of frozen in place like it moved in to stay. When I was out earlier it was a bit muggy but inside there is the chill that one normally associated with a damp chilly day and there seems no in between.

My daughter called from Arizona and asked if I saw their Governor on the news.  If you’ve caught any news in the past 24 hours you’ve probably seen her, Governor Jan Brewer. My daughter’s voice wasn’t beaming with pride in the Governor but rather embarrassment maybe…

The law essentially instructs local law enforcement to seek out illegal immigrants in the state. It establishes an authority for them to ask for documentation where they believe the person appears to perhaps be an illegal (undocumented person) in this country. Interestingly enough the Governor believes that while she doesn't  know what an illegal looks like, she is pretty confident others in the state do. Listen to the video clip below.

 

Oh… I also fount this hysterical… The Sue Lowden Health Care Plan.  Sue is running for Senate against Harry Reid in Nevada.  Anyway, time to get back to my regularly scheduled weekend.

Technorati Tags: Governor Jan Brewer,Arizona,Sue Lowden Health Care

Hugo House to Host Their First Writers' Conference

The Richard Hugo House will be hosting their first ever writers' conference over the weekend of May 21-23 and boy, have they got some good stuff in store for participants. The conference will include panels and workshops, among other festivities, to the theme of Finding Your Readers in the 21st Century.

Not only are we in the middle of a terrible economy, but the modern publishing world as we know it is going through a historical transition and looking fairly uncertain for many professionals and book lovers. Local bookstores are closing; our favorite magazines and newspapers are increasingly becoming thinner; the industry has seen hundreds of lay offs; and as this decade's most popular saying goes, "Everything is moving to the web."

Full Story

Potty Poetry

 Thrilling Tales: A Storytime for Grownups - our 2010 schedule of stories.

Mad Poets Society create a camaraderie - Life - Delco News Network

Mad Poets Society create a camaraderie - Life - Delco News Network

By JOE McALLISTER   - Correspondent

Like any driven artist, Eileen D’Angelo believes in dualism. “I’m a paralegal by day and a mad poet by night,” says the director of the Mad Poets Society, a non-profit arts organization that has grown from a handful of poets at Media Borough Hall to over 100 members spread out over the five county area.

Like their logo shows (a wind-blown, mad-hatted poet struggling against the elements with a hand full of penned poems – an illustration of the odds facing most poets), the Mad Poets have 100 events scheduled for 2010 and that’s a whole lot of organizational onomatopoeia. With April deemed National Poetry Month, local wordsmiths see it, literally, as an opportunity to spread the good word.
“The media gets involved and the public remembers there are beautiful words out there,” says D’Angelo of Glenolden. “The focus is put not only the art of poetry but the purpose of poetry: to capture and make sense of the world around us.”  Full Story





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national-poetry-month-perfect-time-to-rhyme

National Poetry Month perfect time to rhyme
Classic artists like Silverstein, Carroll ideal antidotes for late-semester stress

By
Published: Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Updated: Wednesday, April 21, 2010

April is National Poetry Month, and what better time to spend on meter? It’s diverting to compose those limericks about studying till dawn or a rhyming couplet about how frustrated you are at your grades. The poetry world offers a wide of variety of subjects ranging from serious to silly to help cope with the end-of-semester crunch. Full Story

The City of Newark and NJPAC to Host 2010 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival, October... -- NEWARK, N.J., April 19 /PRNewswire-USNewswire/ --

 "The City of Newark and NJPAC to Host 2010 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival, October 7-10, 2010

Biennial event to feature MORE THAN three dozen renowned poets, including four U.S. Poets Laureate, Pulitzer Prize winners, and other acclaimed, award-winning and widely-published poets - Tickets go on sale Friday, April 23rd

Expected to attract 20,000 to NJPAC and other Newark venues

NEWARK, N.J., April 19 /PRNewswire-USNewswire/ -- From Thursday, October 7 through Sunday, October 10, the City of Newark and New Jersey Performing Arts Center (NJPAC) will host the largest poetry event in North America, the 2010 Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival. Tickets for the Festival go on sale beginning Friday, April 23rd (see below for complete Ticket Information and Festival Prices). The Festival is sponsored, in part, by the Bank of America and PSEG Foundation."    Full Story

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday has arrived quite in schedule so I’ll saunter on down to the confessional. Care to follow?
 Dear Reader-
 I confess that last yesterday afternoon, after a routine doctor appointment and trip by the chiropractor’s office, went home and fixed my wife and I dinner and then promptly crashed for the evening. I felt a little under the weather and as a result did nothing that I would normally do in the evening. No reading, no writing, didn’t turn on the computer. I’m sorry to say I didn’t even clean up the kitchen after dinner. This morning I actually feel only slightly more functional. ~0~

My son had been out of town for a week and I would dog sit in the evenings and on weekend while he was away. Evidently something went array in his upbringing because while I’m proud of him and what he has done with his life, I cannot explain his attraction to the fox cable news network. We picked him up and the airport and took him back to his house and we had only gotten about five or six blocks when he texts my wife and says his TV has some kind of virus… he turned it on and got MSNBC (which was intentional on my part). I confess I laughed my ass off all day long and still chuckle thinking about it. ~0~

Looking at my present journal (maybe half full) I confess I want to replace it with a refill because it bugs me when I have a few lines of something I’ve written that I abandon and move one. Once that happens a few times and or I have stuff I’ve crossed out it really starts to gnaw at me and I want a fresh new refill. Of course I don’t run out and replace it… I suffer through it to completion and I do mean suffer because it really bugs me. I can clearly see I have weeks of annoyance left to work through. I may have to see a therapist.

Thanks for listening dear reader… now we can get on with our week.

From Natalie Merchant, a Literary Tour - NYTimes.com

From Natalie Merchant, a Literary Tour - NYTimes.com: "A FEW weeks ago Natalie Merchant was pondering what the promotional sticker should say on the package of her new album, “Leave Your Sleep.” She was worried that “the P-word,” as she put it, might deter potential listeners. The P-word? What unseemly term could Ms. Merchant, one of pop’s most kindly and conscientious voices for nearly three decades, possibly need to hide behind an initial?" CLICK TO READ THE ENTIRE STORY

To Think of Summer

[For today's prompt, take the phrase "To (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Some examples: "To the left, to the left," "To write or not to write," "To Kill a Hummingbird," "To the Doghouse," etc. There are so many possibilities.]


There you are—
on the wings of summer

wind in your hair
Marigolds everywhere

sunshine falls across your face
brown eyes shine without a care

you entice seemingly
without even knowing

I think you wear summer
best of all

Body and Mind

[For today's prompt, write a science poem. Science encompasses a lot, so your poem doesn't have to be scientific to still be a science poem. For instance, you could have a poem titled something like "The Science of Love," and then examine a relationship. Voila! A science poem! Of course, it'll be interesting to see how many poets talk about volcanoes and single cell organisms, not to mention finding out how many "mad scientists" are out there.]


"every cell in your body is eavesdropping on the brain" ~ Deepak Chopra

Every cell?
The cells in the second joint
of my left pinkie finger?

This idea of "smart cells"
poses a whole new bioethics.

If I knew full well
that it's unlawful to drive drunk,
then falling off the wagon
and operating a vehicle
is more than a lapse of judgment.
My legs and feet that did not walk away
knew, my hand that kept
raising the beer can had knowledge—
so many cell co-opted in this—
they could have intervened
but failed to.

Somehow
this makes any transgression
seem worse. Let's face it,
your whole body
was into the act.

When I was told no more cookies
before dinner and then caught
in the cookie jar, had my had slapped…
it deserved it, for it too was culpable,
as were my shins and elbows—
hell, poke my eyes for good measure
and ground my sperm!
They all were in on it.

Knowledge is a heavy responsibility.
My whole body is convulsing at my thoughts

So Easy – So Scary

Technorati Tags: no restrictions at gun shows

 

 

Technorati Tags: lack of restrictions,gun purchases

Deadline

[For today's prompt, write a deadline poem. You can interpret what a deadline poem is however you wish. Maybe it's a poem that laments the idea of deadlines. Maybe it's a poem about someone intentionally missing them or who never has problems with them (I wish I were that person). Regardless of how you take it, remember that you have until tomorrow before another prompt will be posted. Consider that your poetic deadline.]




In an urban trauma center
a gunshot victim
becomes just a portion
of the 2 am bedlam—

the changing of the guard;
EMTs hand off the victim
to the hospital staff—

in a hurried continuum
down a corridor
throw swinging doors
now under bright lights
the crimson soaked shirt
is cut away—

bags to IV tubes refreshed,
monitor hooked up,
orders shouted like barking
from competing street vendors

from here it looks like chaos
but the movement is routine
as a well practiced fire drill.
This is the fifth or sixth gunshot
this week— I lose count
and it’s only Thursday.

“We’re losing him” shouts a voice…
“Stand back,” comes another.
“Clear!” things become
slow motion here. Another,
“clear!”

The red line on the monitor flattens out—
They've reached another deadline;
“Time of death 2:32 a.m.”

The Poetry Deal by Diane di Prima

I found this wonderful piece of writint at SF Gate.  Below I'll leave you with an explanation by the poet laureate of San Francisco Diane di Prima - I could identify with so much of it.  After you read it - follow the link and read "The Poetry Deal"


Diane di Prima is San Francisco's poet laureate. About "The poetry deal:" I committed myself to a life of poetry at the age of 14, as a sophomore in high school. I'd been writing some poetry since I was 7, but to me "commitment" meant that I'd write something every day, and would learn all I could about the craft of the poem. As the years passed, I kept doggedly at it, writing, studying obsessively, and always avoiding classes and workshops. By the time I was 24, I was putting out a book a year. Forty years after that commitment, it occurred to me that - selfless and unquestioning as the creative life is - there actually is something like a contract between me and my art.

click below

The Poetry Deal by Diane di Prima

On Death

[Maybe it's a little too close to tax day, but today's prompt is to write a death poem. You can write about a specific death or consider death as an idea. In the tradition of Emily Dickinson (and other poets), you could even address Death as an entity. Or you can surprise us with a different spin on the subject.]



From birth we commence
with dying. —with no understanding
of this fact or knowledge of what death is.


Our life is wrought with death daily,
we experience it in little things—


first, cheap toys that that break down
and leave us…


the randomness of an ant crushed
under our feet…


the spider your mother took out
with the sole of her shoe…


the naked baby bird
fallen from a nest— it's beak open
it's neck broken.


It becomes more personal
with the death of a pet. A dog
or cat, or turtle… something to which
we've grown attached
up and dies…


and we learn
the deeper meaning of sadness—
more profound than the plastic decoder ring
that was broken and thrown out;
and I think


each time we see death
the world dies a little bit more
for what has passed on


and as children we are often spared
the trip to the funeral home because we are
so young; but at what point…
at what point do any of us
achieve understanding? At what point
do we suddenly have a comfort level?
I think never…


for death stalks us
day in
day out—


it will wait for us.

Unconscious Mutterings Week 376

You say... I think:

• 1.Habit :: Nun
• 2.Relaunch :: Program
• 3.Mondays :: Manic
• 4.Bootstrap :: Pullup
• 5.Funk ::  Mayor
• 6.Appreciate :: Love
• 7.Yay! :: Overjoyed
• 8.Life ::  Sentence
• 9.Sheets ::  Paper
• 10.Date night ::  Friday Night

get your own list here

Jeweled Island

[For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Island," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. You could do a well-known island, such as "Treasure Island," "Ellis Island," or "Total Drama Island." Or you could make up the name of an island. Or you could even have a long drawn out title, such as "You'll never get me on an island" or "If I were on a deserted island."]



Jeweled Island



The beaches, vast in topaz crumbs
sparkle against the morning sunlight
and the deep blue waters ripple in
with a white foam tide.

Coconut trees are heavy with
fire opal fruit and near by
yellow tourmaline bananas
dangle above us.

In the distance, beyond
the lush jaded grasses
mountains of blood stone
and onyx rise high into the sky—

some snowcapped in diamond.

LOVE

[Two for Tuesday time!  Here are today's two prompts:
1. Write a love poem.  2. Write an anti-love poem.]


Love—

feels like a silky blanket
or binky that pacifies—

it's the best fitting jeans we've ever had—

the shoes you almost forget
are on your feet.



Love is—

the exhilaration of free fall—

invigorating as standing beneath
a cascade—

cool as a tall glass of iced tea
on a summer day—

warm as a hot coco & marshmallows
on a winter night—

it can rage like a forest fire engulfing—

it can race the heart at a 1000 RPM—

but even then, it is the peace that breaks out
like a rash inside you.

Poetry / Around and about:

Kelli Russell Agodon

leads discussion on the topic "What constitutes a good poem?" in a Field's End Writers' Roundtable event at 7 p.m. April 20 at the Bainbridge Island branch of Kitsap Regional Library, 1270 Madison Ave. N. The event is free and open to writers of all levels and interests. Information: (206) 842-4162, fieldsend.org.

                                                                 ~0~
And this:

Q&A with poet Susan Rich


As I'm sure you all know, it's National Poetry Month, and I was happy to catch up with a very busy Susan Rich to ask her about her newly released book, The Alchemist's Kitchen (White Pine 2010). Also the author of Cures Include Travel and The Cartographer's Tongue ~ Poems of the World, Susan has received awards from PEN USA, The Times Literary Supplement, and Peace Corps Writers. Recent poems have appeared in the Antioch Review, Harvard Review, Poetry International and TriQuarterly

                                                               ~0~

                                                                           

Poetry magazine finds home at EvCC:

Everett can now claim a spot on the literary map. Everett Community College is the new home of Poetry Northwest, a national poetry magazine started 51 years ago by writers who became literary giants.




The magazine has a Web site, http://www.poetrynw.org/, and an independent staff, most based in Seattle.

                                                             ~0~

Adopt a Poet for National Poetry Month:



I bring it up because April is National Poetry Month, which was started by the Academy in 1996 with the hopes of turning April into a month “when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture.”

The program has grown over the years and is now celebrated with readings and programs in schools and even an app.

Well, if you’re looking for a way to mark the occasion — I have an idea: adopt a poet.  Not literally, of course.

In an age where Glenn Beck is making some $13 million a year from books, maybe it’s time we did something to help those who are certainly as deserving.

So, what do I mean by adopting a poet?   Find out - Entire story here!







 

San Francisco

[For today's prompt, pick a city, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem. Your poem can praise or belittle the city. Your poem could be about the city or about the people of the city. Your poem could even have seemingly nothing to do with the city. But the simple act of picking a city will set the mood (to a certain degree), so choose wisely.]



It’s like an island connected
to land. It has bay, ocean and mountains.
It feels tropical in some ways—
with palms, still modern and filled
with culture and all things urban.

There is a staggering beauty
from the Pacific coast
to the downtown skyline
with the Transamerica Pyramid
towering high above.

The bridges are spectacular
Golden Gate shrouded often
in a mystique of fog.
The low lying San Mateo
stretches out for an eternity
across the bay
linking east and west.

The weather is most congenial
cool breezes and shirtsleeve warmth
most days.
The city is alive in ways
most cities never imagine—
trolley or the wharfs
people move about
consigned from boredom.

A sunset any direction
is staggering—
you cannot deny
God’s poetic thumbprint.

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday’s come like clockwork now. That’s a crazy statement. Nothing has changed, just my perception.


It’s off to the confessional~


Dear Reader- I’ve been doing NaPoWriMo this month and I’ve cheated. No, I’m not stealing others writers work or anything like that, but I confess I’ve gotten into a pattern of starting late in the day on a poem and finishing it the next. This has happened several times and I keep looking over my shoulder to see it the poetry police a lurking behind.

I could say that I generally keep them within a 24 hour period it’s just that sometimes they straddle the timeline of calendar days. ~0~

While on the subject of NaPoWriMo I have other confessions to make.

• I confess that sometimes I really don’t like a prompt and I find that generally sets my mood and tone and tends to guarantee that I will not like what I write.
• I confess too that while I’ve been posting everything to my blog I don’t really like doing this. This stuff is much too raw to be considered poetry in my view and I prefer not to be judged by readers on it.
• This brings up another confession about my poems and my blog. Usually when I post a poem on my blog I’m sad to say it is not my best work even when we are not in NaPoWriMo mode. If it’s all that good I want to submit it elsewhere. If it’s all that bad, I don’t want to post it at all. So what gets posted is something teetering on the edge. This whole thing bothers me. ~0~

I confess too that I am overly tired this week. I’ve been dog sitting for someone out of town and so that has put me between work, home and a third location. More driving is required and it makes for a disrupted schedule. I don’t mind helping out… I’m certainly not intending this to come off as complaining, just stressing the point of why I’m likely overly tired. At least I hope that is why and not some other health issue. ~0~

My San Francisco Giants baseball team has been playing awesome…. they are 6 and 1! I confess this makes me crazy happy!

Lastly, I confess that I’ve missed being away from Cathy on the nights I’ve been dog sitting.

~ Book of Kells: Breaking News - Pulitzer Prize winner in Poetry Announced

~ Book of Kells: Breaking News - Pulitzer Prize winner in Poetry Announced


I was asleep at the switch and Kelle beat me to the punch with this news and I'm too tired and still have more to write so I'm going to piggy back off her post.


I have to admit the winner for Poetry, Versed by Rae Armantrout sounds deliciously interesting.

The Last Poet

[For today's prompt, take the phrase "The Last (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Some examples: "The Last Train," "The Last Kiss," "The Last Time I'll Give Directions to a Complete Stranger," "The Last Dance," etc.] * actually yesterday's prompt, I'm posting late.



If you think poetry is useless,
rather a bore—
and when the subject comes up
you're out the door—
then this poem my friend is just
for you—
it’s about all the things you fail
to realize you do.

The sunset in the western sky
the things you marvel
and question way;
Grand Canyon’s cavernous
cut-a-ways,
and golden wheat tops
that glisten and sway
with wind that howls
and storms that loom;
that darkened glum
on the horizon—

or Pacific surfs
at Monterey
and tides that come
Atlantic’s way…

all these wonders
of which we see
speak to the poet
that is both you
and me.

You may not write
down things profound
but you see them
you know them
they’re all around.

So when this all
comes to an end;
and all about this earth
caves in

be assured
that you too have been
a poet—

the last poet
please turn out
the light.

Zzzzzzzzzzz.........

It's Sunday night - 11:30ish and that's me on the left. Ok, maybe not but that's how I feel. It's been a long day and a long weekend and I'm waiting on the washer to go off so I can transfer clothes to the dryer.

I have a poem to post but I don't care to wrestle with it at this point. It will have to wait till tomorrow. It's my poem for NaPoWriMo.

I was able to catch the very last part of the Giants game. Their fifth win in six games. Wahoo!!

I read an interesting essay about Plath's poem Sheep in Fog and I'm too tired to go into it here, but perhaps I will in the next few days. Monday is coming way too quickly for my liking and I just heard the washer click off so I'm going to make the transfer to the dryer and maybe read for 15-20 minutes and conk out for the night.

Book Party for Nathalie Handal's - "Love and Strange Horses"

ANYONE IN NEW YORK    ~     This Thursday, APRIL 15, 2010

 A MUST to Put  on your Calendar

"Book Party for Nathalie Handal's Love and Strange Horses"

Gallery Bar - 120 Orchard ST. NY, NY

7:00pm - 10:00pm

I would so go to this if I were there.  Handal is a uniquely talented poet who has a very universal voice.  I loved her book Neverfield.

Sleepless Nights

[For today's prompt, write a horror poem. Make it scary. Make it cheesy. Make it funny. Whatever you do, link it somehow to horror. Who knows? Maybe someone will write the next great raven poem.]   


Sleepless Nights
Under light of the moon
the crackened earth moves
to modest gasps from below—
Dante’s hell whispering hello
unseen by human eyes
the souls like gas rise
their presence felt about
     by
        haunting
                   chilling
                            shout
that tosses and turns us out
of bed

Portrait in a Morning Mirror

[For today's prompt, write a self-portrait poem. Other artists study themselves to create compositions (not all of them exactly flattering either), so it is only natural that poets, who are word artists, write self-portrait poems from time to time. In fact, some poets make self-portrait poetry "their main thing." For at least today, make it yours..]


Peering into the mirror
I see a man in the bottom
of the fifth— two outs.

Brows raised
in seriousness,
intensity— offset

occasionally with a smile
even laughter
often mystifying.

There is a busy energy
about his head…
part bewilderment
part an ordering,
compartmentalizing
blocking off thoughts
in stanzas—
juxtaposing the many
incongruencies
that converge therein.

His eyes Capricorn blown,
earthy—

His hair transformed and still
a work of process.

He sees things as they are
and wonders why – and asks
why not, as to others.

Somewhere deep within
there is a pilot light that burns
the fumes of rage off. Sometimes,
sometimes when the stench
from injustice is too thick,
when things cannot just be burnt off
and the pressure cooker builds
he will not be silent. He will not be.

Rolling Pin

[For today's prompt, pick a tool, make that the title of your poem, and write your poem. There are the more obvious tools, of course: hammer, screwdriver, wrench, etc. But there also less obvious tools and/or specialized tools available as well. Before attacking this poem, you may want to just think about the various possibilities first. Or just write.]





With the flick of a wrist
the checkered cloth came off
the table exposed like a magic trick
down came the muslin cloth
dusted with flour
a lump of dough
and the strong arms of granny
against the handles
of a rolling pin.


With the legs of a runner
transformed to granny’s arms
she would slam the pin
against the dough
and roll forward
a mighty force laid flat
against the putty
flattened like new asphalt
repeated
over
and
over.


Each stroke an advancing army
flattening the territory,
advancing—    resistance weakening.
That’s how I remember granny.

Until The Geese Return

[The prompt for today - Until (blank)  fill in the blank.]



The dogs will bark
at people passing by—

and grass will grow
lush & green in the field
where they would rest
and strut—

the songs of lesser birds
will fill the morning air—

clouds will come and go
without their meticulous V—

the only honking
will be from cars—

and I will anxiously await
the reassurance
their familiarity brings.