The Mag 113: Visions in Red

Red Roofs, Marc Chagall, 1954

Visions in Red

In the night of my many sighs

I see the roofs of our village 

rushing with red

I sit along the way 

pretending not 

to see my wedding day

this way

I am both in my own view

but along the way as well

my bouquet in hand

but I smell nothing 

though the taste of copper

is strong in the air

like I'm sucking on coins

my groom stands over us all

and ladles the blood of every Passover

on us all - even the Jew we call the Christ

I am clothed and yet nakedly vulnerable

before my groom, before God,

before the whole of the town 

Michael A. Wells

Mag 113

KC area man Chosen Missouri Poet Laureate

JEFFERSON CITY, Mo. (AP) — Gov. Jay Nixon has appointed a retired professor from Northwest Missouri State University as the state's third poet laureate.

The selection of Lee's Summit resident William Trowbridge was announced Friday. He will serve a two-year term, giving presentations and lectures on poetry to school, community and civic groups throughout Missouri.
Trowbridge has published eight collections of poems, and his works have been reprinted in more than 30 anthologies and textbooks. He was on the faculty of Northwest Missouri State in Maryville from 1971 to 1998.
He succeeds David Clewell, a professor of English at Webster University.   [Source]

Poetry Thought for the Day

"A joke is like an explosion - there's just this little smoke and it's gone. A poem is like a much. much richer joke." Adam Zagajewski, AGNI online, 2004

Confession Tuesday Broken Back Edition

Dear Reader:

It's been on week since my last confession.  One back breaking week.


I confess our garage needed cleaning out.  We have a two car garage but I don't believe we've ever parked two cars in it at the same time. We have packed one in on occasion but this has been rare. We don't have a formal basement as such. There is a lower level finished family room where some people might have a basement but for us the garage area has been used mostly for storage from day one. I would add that it has not been organized storage in any sense of the word.

This past week we have been cleaning  it out. It's been a back braking task and I confess that yesterday evening we had a chiropractic visit that we moved up from it's scheduled Wednesday night time slot because we were both so sore.

Things I've parted with - Not of course an inclusive list but some items include:

• various books
• two pipes-  I smoked a pipe years ago. In fact I smoked a pipe  late in my high school days. (I confess nothing more then traditional pipe tobacco)
• old material from previous political campaigns I was involved in
• some wall plaques
• VHS tapes & movies
• Misc. papers saved over the years
• fantasy baseball magazines
• old watch
• old yard signs
• broken fan
• old carpeting

I confess that we are not yet finished.

I confess that with lent over I have now had and enjoyed a diet coke.

Easter Break

Wishing all A Happy Easter!

I'm taking a break from cleaning in the garage. Made a last minute check to my fantasy team to see if any lineup changes are in order. Made a slight adjustment.Seeing as how it is noon could explain the fact that I'm hungry.
I can't sit here long want to get back to work. I hope not to work too late tonight want to be able to relax a bit and the write.

I've thrown out some interesting things from my past. Maybe I'll list some here this week.

Journal Bits

It's been a while since I've done a journal bits post but then I've not posted very much lately. The week I've been working in the garage - major spring cleaning and reading some in the evening and writing a bit each day.

From the pages of my journal - these following bits, quotes, thoughts....

Thursday, March 22, 2012:  A vacation day today, I've made a trip to the Midwest Gemological Society looking for information about my dad's grave. While I did not find it for certain, I did find a listing  date for an obituary. It was in 2005 and those archives are not available on line. I will need to contact the paper and order a micro-fish in order to see a copy of it. [Note: it appears he survived all his siblings and I am fearful that no prior arrangements for burial were mad and therefor he may not have a grave site but have been cremated.]

Saturday night, March 24, 2010: I've  spent time on Ancestry Dot Com tonight working on family history & found more things on my father including two collage photos [sophomore and senior years] also dis some searching about Cathy's family. It's easy to get lost [time wise] doing this.

In other news my poem "Sis" was accepted by Montucky Review.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012: Today was the last day of filing and I entered the Blue Sub 8 Democratic Committee race at the very last minute.

Thursday evening, March 29th, 2012:  It's approaching 9:00PM and I just ate almost a pint of Black Walnut ice-cream. I'm in a bit of a self-destructive mood...

Saturday evening March 31st, 2012: Again I'm dealing with negative crap from others.

"Someone told me you can't/like the simplicity of these two/words that should pair off at different corners/of the ring that don't /belong to any social circles together."

April 1st, 2012: "All the room was silent even/as words from your mouth/filled the air with pollen/my eyes and throat itchy from/the allergen words "you can't".

April 2nd, 2012: Quote by Fay Weldon BBC, January 2, 1992 -"A poem almost exists because of the pattern of space around it."  In thinking about Weldon's words - On the page, a pattern of ink and white page are the parameters that confirm the existence. [like a foot print] Every poem [written] has a presence upon the page and at the same time it has another whole dimension that occurs in the form of sound... If read in a room it can occupy the normal silence [briefly].

April 3rd, 2012:  "It's an everything bagel/what more does it need?"

April 4th, 2012:  "Someone said they saw a bit /of the arctic circle just off Manhattan/ and the infrastructure is unsettled/by rising water levels but just this morning/I heard a Senator talk of global warming /and Greek myths in the same/run on sentence..."

April 5th, 2012. "His and her closets say so much/about class, about possessions/about archetypes..."
"At first approach relationships/are shell games requiring/great attention span."

What I'm Reading...

Tonight I am settling in with a copy of FALL HIGHER by Dean Young.  After a little reading I'll tackle a new poem draft for day four of poetry month.

Poetry Month Thought #2

"Becoming a poet involves the end of a kind of innocence. It is about being critical, separate. Experience is no longer just experience. It becomes material." ~ Vicki Feaver, How Poets Work, 1996

Confession Tuesday - Lent on auto pilot edition

Dear Friend… it’s a week since my last confession; a whole frink’n week already. 

To the confessional…. 

It’s been a week of rain and sunshine. I confess that I can take no blame or credit for either.  

It’s been a trying week. I confess that it has been a week of anger and frustration and uncertainty; all of things that I don’t like.  I confess that it also is a week in which change has been on my mind a lot. Some perhaps good and some perhaps not so, but either way he thought of changes is always unsettling to me. 

I confess that I’m usually thinking about poetry month many weeks before it ever arrives but not this one. I confess too that I often wrangle internally with the pros and cons of setting out to write a poem-a-day during poetry month. The pressure to produce, the expectations, the thought of failure, all that kind of stuff that causes you lunch to spin heavy in your stomach like a cement mixer sloshing a load before it dumps It out.  All that said, I simply went about writing a draft of a poem each of the first two nights of the month and never put any pressure on myself o do so.  Both seem to be real workable drafts… Yeah! 

I confess that one day last week I was on auto pilot when I stopped on the way to work at the local Quick Trip, aced in and filled up a 44 oz. glass, paid and went to the car where I took a sip and realized I had gotten Diet Coke instead of iced tea from the fountain.  I pitched the drink and stopped down the road for a tea. Other than that mistaken sip, I have continued my sacrifice of Diet Coke for Lent.   

My wife and I saw the movie Mirror Mirror over the weekend. It’s a fascinating twist on the Snow White story. Julia Roberts was great in a most unconventional role for her.  I recommend it!  I confess he trip to the movies with Cathy was my high point of the week.

Poetry Month Thought #1

"A poem almost exists because of the pattern of space around it." ~ Fay Weldon, BBC January 2, 1992

A Giant Among Poets

 

ADRIENNA RICH 1929-2012

It's exhilarating to be alive in a time of awakening consciousness; it can also be confusing, disorienting, and painful. ~ Adrienne Rich

Confession Tuesday

Confession time again...

Dear Reader:

It's been another week since my last confession and here I am. What can I tell you about a week that on the surface seem pretty typical?

I can tell you that I'm I'm annoyed about a certain level of drama within a poetry group that I've been associated with over the years. I use the term associated with as opposed to belong to because  over he last several years I just felt  along with many of the good vibes here was some negative ones and I'm mostly interested in good Kama where my art is concerned. I confess that it's hard to want to belong to something that brings people down.

Having another poem accepted last week was an emotional boost. I cannot deny that it always feels good. But then I have to withdraw it from all he other venues that it's still pending in... I confess  (I shouldn' complain) this is always a part of writing that I dislike. The administrative stuff.  Submitting, withdrawing, tracking, etc. Yes I sound whiny~

It seems like we've all but missed spring. Things are so green already and we've had some relatively warm days. I confess it feels like baseball should be about a month and a half down the road instead of just starting.

As If We Need A Reason to Eat More Chocolate!

From Huffington Post Healthy Living - Chocolate Eating Linked To Lower BMI        

More on Rejection

#links

When I think of rejection two things initially come to my mind... a child showing something to a parent, a teacher or some other adult that they are particularly wanting to share and being quickly dismissed. The other image that comes to my mind is s new salesperson at a sales meeting being told by a more experienced pro that being rejected in a sales pitch is just a part of the numbers. You must be rejected a certain amount of time before you make a sale.  

There seems like a very expansive divide between these two images. For starters there is no positive outcome for the rejected child. On the other hand, if you buy the goods (the argument the sales pro is making) at the sales meeting then you come to see that as unpleasant as it may be to hear no, it is an essential part of success. Yes, even the best Realtor, the top auto dealership, the biggest publishers are going to face rejection.  

Kelli Agodon who has a litany of publication credits, awards, grants won, etc. address her recent rejection blues in a both light hearted (she rarely fails to amuse moi) and yet thoughtful blog post earlier today. I don't know any writer, poet, or artist of any kind that doesn't relish accolades. Conversely, a rejection slip to a writer can be a very personal thing because it is often the cost of putting yourself out there. I've been through my share of slumps. After a flurry of acceptances one year I went the whole next year and then some with one rejection letter after another. It can feed doubt in yourself, in the very endeavor you have been undertaking.  

Kelli has reminded me something I really should be constantly aware of. In some of these dry spells I have actually reached points where I've asked myself why I even do this... why don't I just quit right now? So far when each of these negative thoughts have entered my mind I have in fact issued my own rejection and refused to quit. Is it the prize we write for or is it to flush out something on paper that takes guts? Is it publication credits or the birth of our art on a page?

I'm pretty sure I will sometime in the future swear off writing again - and yet very likely keep on keeping on. I think it's just something writers do. They don't have a choice.

Shameless Self Promotion

A poem of mine is up at Montucky Review.  A thank you to the Editors!  

To view the poem simply titled Sis, Click here

Confession Tuesday

It’s been a week since my last confession. Come along and let’s get started on this week.

Dear Reader:

I have realized over the past week that I’ve been feeling good. Energy level is up and it’s been so long since I’ve felt like this (way back before Thanksgiving for sure) that it seems a bit scary.  Scary as in I fear the resurgence of some kind of illness. Probably some kind of exotic one like plummetodivanitis.  I confess I made that up but of course you surely knew that already. The truth is I’ve had so many boom-a-rang rebounds since Thanksgiving; I’m seriously worried that I’ll be back in bed on my back battling something as early as tomorrow.

Feeling better has worked well for me.  I’m less tense about work, about writing, about most everything and I firmly believe that my improved health is a big part of this as well as the absence of some routine stressors that are no longer a factor.

I’ve realized today that change is in the air. I confess that I don’t know any Capricorns that are especially fond of change and I of course would be one.  In the near future there will be some changes impacting foremost my wife, but certainly things at home as well. These are not necessarily bad things and I need to keep reminding myself of this.  No matter how things pan out, I need to be supportive of my wife to help make these changes easier for her as well.

Over the next week I will be making a decision on something that I have been toying with and I’m not going to go into detail here at this point but I confess that it is not an easy decision for me to make.  All I can say is the fact that I am feeling more energized will help make the decision a little easier.

I’m behind where I’d like to be with writing submissions for this point in the year. Hard to believe the first quarter is nearly over. Confessing here that I am not sweating it is important to me because I’ve felt way too lousy these first three months of the year to be on the top of my game when it comes to writing or the administrative stuff (submitting work) which I’ve come to dread.  I believe I will be able to double down and move swiftly into gear.

That’s all I got for the week. May the rest of yours be super!

About Last Night

I want to give a shout out to Doug and Jalene Berger for the Third Friday Open Mics at Crossroads Coffee House in the Crossroads Arts District in Kansas City.

I read some of my own material last night, and as I like to do when I read out in public, I selected another poet and poem to introduce to the crowd. Last night I read Kelli Russell Agodon's poem Under The Covers We Find Jesus from her book, Letters From The Emily Dickinson Room.

Besides being owners of the coffee house, Doug and Jalene are a supporter of the Arts rotating artwork on their walls and of course supporting spoken word and poetry. I enjoy their coffee and I'm pretty picky about my coffee. They are located at 310 Southwest Blvd, Kansas City, Mo 64108

An Irish Blessing for You...

Sign of the Times

Love this sign... it has gotten a lot of laughs around the courthouse. I realize these are tough times but forcing your car to get a job to make ends meet is taking things to a new level.

This Friday Night - Spoken Word at Crossroads Coffee House

Reading at CROSSROADS COFFEE HOUSE

  OPEN MIC  7PM
    310 Southwest Blvd. K.C., MO 64108

Heard any good metaphors?

"A thousand naked fornicating couples with their moans and contortions are nothing compared to a good metaphor." ~ Charles Simic, The Gettysburg Review, Winter 1995

Confession Tuesday - Sick No More Edition

Dear Reader:

It’s Tuesday evening and I’m supposed to do some soul searching so let’s hurry to the confessional.

It’s been a week now since my last confession. A week in which some sense of normalcy has begun to return to my body. I confess that the concept of feeling good has become an enigma of sorts because I don’t think I’ve really fell well since before Thanksgiving. The most recent health issue was the acquisition of influenza and I believe we’ve knocked that out and I’m getting stronger daily.  A public service announcement at this point… I had a flu shot this fall and evidently there is a sizable failure rate with the most recent vaccine.  Also worth noting if you live in Missouri the CDC indicates the flu is widespread.  A week or so ago it was the only state in the US that was highlighted red – the highest level.

I think when you’ve been sick off and on for about 4 months you kind of lose that feistiness that tends to get you in trouble.  As a result I don’t have any really exciting vices to report.  Though during the work drive this week my wife noted I must be feeling better because I was a bit cranky.  I didn’t know I had to feel good to be cranky but maybe it all fits together in with being feisty.

And this week, another positive sign is I’m starting to feel like my writing mojo is coming back.  I’m convinced that creativity is one of the first casualties of sickness.  I confess that my writing was starting to feel like a self fulfilling prophecy of failure.

I confess that I’ve eaten a sinful amount of Black Walnut ice cream this past week.  But on a positive note, I’ve remained true to my sacrifice of Diet Coke for lent. Coke shares must be plummeting (good time to buy) but they will be back on the rise come Easter.  Actually, I’m thinking I will not be as big a Coke drinker after this. We’ll see.

Mag 108: Bobby Socks and Bare Knees

My memory of the neighbor girl
is burrowed in the back of my mind.
Tucked away all these years
this 7 year olds crush,
this awakening,
this curiosity,
maybe twice my age
definitely older

staked a claim on my thoughts
this afternoon—      why after all these years
do I recall the bobby socks and bare knees
how her flimsy dresses were forever
blowing in my psyche? 

How some cold mornings
her bare arms would grow goose bumps end to end.
I was hopelessly inquisitive about her;
she carried herself affable—  unlike any girls
my own age.  I didn’t even notice.

I knew nothing of pubescent girls at the time.
I only knew there was something different,
this one looked supple but sturdy
and even from a bicycle length
I could smell a difference.

Her father changed jobs
relocating to another area
that May.  I don’t recall
another girl for a long time.


Michael A. Wells

Magpie 108

Romanticizing the Paper

"Though the middle ground may eventually disappear - paperback fiction, for example - the ongoing rise of ebooks should actually encourage the making of beautiful physical books. Readers want the volumes they keep on their shelves to be as striking and as sensory as possible. And so, while most publishers are racing to keep up with the conquest of the screen, the true mavericks may well be people who are doing something very old-fashioned very well."  More

When reading the passage above I feel almost a romantic atmosphere illuminating in the words. It does cause me to wonder more about the future of books than perhaps any prognostication of the future or any pontification from the many already sold on electronics publications that I've read in the past couple of years about the future of books. Could there be a resonance in hard back books around the corner?  

I’ve made it pretty clear in past blog posts that I like my books with real pages.  I do have an e-reader on my phone and I have both a Kindle for PC and Nook for PC on my laptop.  I don’t use them a lot and I suppose one reason is that I don’t like to pay the price of a book for a digital file.  It’s a hang-up, yes.  I will admit it, but it remains a fact. One that I have had since day one of my introduction to e-books and it hasn’t eroded any that I can tell.

There are plenty of people that for one reason or another have trouble accepting e-books, I run across them routinely.  I suspect that at some point many of these hold outs, myself included may soften to e-books, but for many of us e-readers are not the novelty that they are for others.  I know this because while I’ve been easily drawn to many electronic gadgets this hasn’t happened where e-readers are concerned.

If and when I do gravitate more towards acceptance, I can tell you that I am likely to find the real novelty will be in that which still has paper pages to turn.  So will there become a cottage industry for those small presses that turn out books in smaller numbers in hardback?  Will the future choice be to order an e-book or a hardback?  Will most books be published as e-books and then after being out a while the really successful ones go to hardback, a sort of reverse of the traditional publishing paradigm?

Unless we read poetry

"Unless we read poetry, we"ll never have our hearts broken by language, which is an indispensable preliminary to a civilized life." ~Anatole Broyard - The New York Times

Confession Tuesday -

Dear Reader:

It’s that time again.  Time when I look all inward at myself and talk to you about what’s been going on.  So let’s shuffle ourselves into the confessional.

I confess that I’ve given up Diet Coke for lent and so far there have been no casualties.  I’ve actually been doing very well about it. Perhaps being off work sick for a week may have helped. I was certainly distracted where consumption of food and drink was concerned.  Did pretty good with water intake like a good little patient.

I had the flu… and this in spite of the fact that I received a flu shot in the fall. I confess that I was grumpy about that fact. Hey, I did my part!

I’m in the mood for St Patrick’s Day and corned beef and cabbage!  I confess that I am especially fond of corned beef and cabbage. Oh, and potato’s too. I love hose little Yukon Gold ones. I could eat corned beef anytime and honestly I would love to have it more often.  This time of year I usually buy two and throw the second in the freezer. Sometimes we tap into it the next week and other times we will no eat it till much later in the year.  Now I’m totally hungry! I guess that will do it for now. See you all next week when I share all my dirty little secrets that I don’t really have.

Please Do Me Right Now....

Could not resist this  Credit:

Meg: 107: What Phobia?

image by Sarolta Ban

He hides his nervousness behind a Mercurochrome mask

feels the grittiness of a public humiliation just the same

with no particular reason that he can articulate.

It's just the size of everything is so outlandish.

The rivers of mascara that flow like lava.

Mars and Jupiter staring him down.

What phobia should he choose

as he recoils from it all?

He has become the two legged atom

randomized and feeling underfoot

an ant fleeing as the real world trudges on.

Michael A. Wells

Magpie



Magpie 106: Canned Art

photo credit: Bob Adelman, 1965

Through the eye's prism

rows upon rows of Avant-Garde

a canned future 

handy in a missile crisis - 

it's all good- art saves!

Cut into it if you must.

Preserved for generations

to come - taste it - um good!

Michael A. Wells

Mag106



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.

On Being a Poet

"Being a poet is like having an invisible partner. It isn't easy. But you can't live without it either. Talent is only 10 percent. The rest is obsession." ~ Selma Hill, Contemporary Women's Poetry, 2000

Foreign Friday

It's a sad thing when you are writing a post for your blog and you feel like a visitor to it. I've been away from here a week and I also feel like I've been away from the life in general for a week.  I've been sick and off work all week but should return on Monday after a followup doctor's appointment.

Things that somehow feel foreign to me....

• Eating.  I should lose a ton of weight but I know I probably won't.  I've had days where all I ate was a bowl of Cheerios. One day it was a bottle of Glucerna. Another it was simply two eggs. Last night I had a small stake portion and some corn [the corn was the best part] and my wife must have thought I was pathetic.  Part of it has been at time no appetite, but even when not my blood sugar numbers have been elevated substantially during this illness and that has caused me to be cautious about intake.
• Writing. I've done none other then attempting to make a journal entry which if I recall I left hanging in mid sentence.
• Poetry.  I'm separating Poetry from Writing here only to demonstrate the magnitude of impact. The couple of times I would think about writing poetry it seemed I became nauseous feeling. I'm not saying I've suddenly fallen out of love with poetry just that my whole cycle-of-life thing has been tremendously impacted.
• TV. I seem to be able to tolerate it only in smaller doses.
• Shaving. This is not unusual for me when I'm sick as I generally will not shave when I'm under the weather.
• Driving. It's been a few days now.

As I wrap this post up, I look outside and snow if falling crazyassed hard. Our grass was already greening and now this.

Friends

I did a poetry reading tonight at a Quaker House Church on a theme of war & peace.  Not a big crowd but a friendly bunch... no pun intended.

Besides reading some of my own work I introduced them to a poem by Carolyn Forche and talked a little about the subtlety in her work and how effective she is with witness poetry without sounding preachy.

After a reading dry spell, this makes my second reading in two weeks.

Mixed Bag - Wednesday

Ouch!  I realized today that I plum missed Confession Tuesday.  On the upside, I took time out of work during my lunchour to make Ash Wednesday Mass so maybe I can have special dispensation.... Please!

Received a rejection letter from Rattle today but I won a poetry book, Dreaming in Darkness Jessica Kristie. Anxious to to read this book. Always love to be exposed to new poetry. I get a real rush from it.

Magpie 105: Collision

image: epic mahoney

The future and history crash

in a flat lined hub of fiber optic nowhere.

The long gone party-lines,

core black telephones decried

 iconic -pink princes phones

that came to link transient families,

translucent friends, truncated business

associates and cordial customers

in a national dialogue.

Colorful language went silent—

we pause to reflect

we pause to listen to what has become

a chorus of tapping finger tips

chipping finger nails

but void of human voice

of human color.

Our mind is left to add warmth

and pictures to text

and try to find the humanity

in the middle of everywhere.

Michael A. Wells

Magpie 105

A few gems from Tom Leonard ‘100 Differences Between Poetry and Prose’

among my favorite:

·       poetry is the subliminal history of linguistic shape

·       poetry has four wheels, two wings and a pair of false teeth

·       whoever heard of war & peace having the line as a unit of semantic yield

·       the square root of poetry is an ever-evolving quark

·       poetry is all the juicy bits in the juiciest order

·       you can talk about prose without mentioning school

The Poetry Brain

"Poetry is a different area if the brain [from prose] - much closer to music and mathematics." Margaret Atwood, BBC Radio 3, June 1995

Crossroads Coffeehouse Reading Last Night

Great readings last night at the Crossroads Coffeehouse- 310 Southwest Blvd, Kansas City, Mo 64108.  First time I've read in a while - but the crowd was great and seemed appreciative to all the readers.  Several readers on hand that I know but  some new ones too. 

A thanks to the owners of the Crossroads Coffeehouse for
sponsoring the event. They plan to do it every third Friday.



Pat Burge on the left reading.

 Shawn Pavey lower left reading

Magpie 104: To Be

She finds it exasperating

she has the duty

to be—

the plastic clown

the elastic  cheerleader

the Wal-Mart greeter

picking up the slack

the life coach

the mom

the wife

spiritual guru

on the scrapheap of life

Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 104

Finally Friday

It's finally Friday. Yeah!

A bit of an oddity to report - I went nearly two weeks without a Diet Coke but alas I had one last night. That's a really long time for me to abstain. It is a legitimate food group in my book.

Lot of ups and downs this week, and there is nothing metaphorical about that comment. Some grueling work days and some good stuff too. There was Valenine's Day.  That evening - well, after midnight our time we got a call from our youngest daughter Meghan. To set the stage you need to realize that clear back to her high school days Meghan would always stop if she reallized it was 11:11  be it AM or PM and say, "11:11 Make a Wish."   So a 11:11PM (her time) she is awaken by Brandon who tells her it's 11:11 and to make a wish.  (I picture her as perhaps a we bit foggy as she is waking up...  anyway, I'm sure her eyes popped wide open as he presented her with an engagement ring. How freek'n romantic is that! The guy has class.

I'm reading tonight at an open mic. I have no read in a while. I used to read publicly fairly frequently but not so much these days. Having been under the weather off and on these past three months - at times with incessent coughing, I'm a little nervous about tonight.  I've been beter these past few days but even yesterday as I was ingagued in a lenthly meeting with a cliant my throat became a little horse and I was fighting back coughing sperts.

A mail bag note for the week:  On Wednesday I received a cool Valentine from Kelli Agodon...  The poet Pablo Neruda on the front... it was a cool picture and of course what poet would better represent the best of Valentine's day. Thank you Kell!

That's it for this morning... wish me good luck tonight!

Friday Night Open Mic Locally

Feb 17h -  Reading at

CROSSROADS COFFEE HOUSE 

OPEN MIC  7PM
                  310 Southwest Blvd. K.C., MO 64108

Confession Tuesday - Valentine Edition

Dear Reader:

It's been a week since my last confession. Actually 6 days if I'm going to be totally honest.

It's Valentine’s Day and I stayed especially busy at work. Shouldn't Valentine’s Day be a holiday? A paid day off? Of course it should... I know you must agree.

My wife and I did not do cards today. She has really become kind of negative on buying cards. I gave serious thought to writing a special poem for the occasion but my work on it the past week did not impress me and I could not expect it to be received by her any better so I scraped my various drafts. I will work on it again in the future when I am less pressured by time.

I confess that it was while on the way to work this morning and bummed out that I had not satisfied my original plan that another thought came to my mind. I dropped my wife off at her office and proceeded to my own. That was during the 7am hour. I decided to text my wife with a short note as to something I loved about her. And then sometime each of the next hours until 5pm I repeated another text with another love proclamation of some type. Several hours into the day I received a text saying, "you're too sweet."

I confess that a couple of the texts she found amusing. There was some light heartedness - it was not all serious stuff. Not bad for a Capricorn huh?

Magpie 103: The Surgeons Hands

The Surgeons Hands

reaching skyward the chiseled hands

cupped as a vessel

yet extended in exaltation

extended  fingers—   precision tools

against the distress of body

against the anguish of passing

fingers that move the veins of life about

that spread open incisions— explore - extract

supplicate the God of mercy

for the generosity of more time

more life

a precious organ

the hand offers

dear God

make this body whole

again

Michael A. Wells

Magpie 103

Like that Chrysler Super Bowl ad with Clint Eastwood? Thank a poet

Of the three people credited as copywriters on the powerful Chrysler advertisement, the one featuring Clint Eastwood that aired for the first time during Sunday's Super Bowl, one is poet Matthew Dickman.

[Story]

Trying to catch up on some reading...

Perhaps you've missed one or more of these items:

Nobel winner left behind new poems ~  A new book of poems by Nobel Prize winner Wislawa Szymborska, who died at the age of 88, will be published in 2012.

Texting As Poetry? Rubbish, Says Oxford Professor ~ "Texting is like the old ticker tape: highly dramatic and intense if it's reporting the Wall Street Crash or the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, not through any inherent virtue of the machine. Is the breaking news which runs at the foot of the screen on the BBC news channel condensed and consequently poetic? I fail to see how anyone could rationally claim that it is. Again texting is linear only. Poetry is lines in depth designed to be seen in relation or in deliberate disrelation to lines above and below."

Taking A Second Look At Gertrude Stein - And Finding A Lot To Like ~ "Not every 'genius' is equally suffocated by the label. Readers know the extraordinary reputations of Shakespeare and Virginia Woolf, but some prefer 'Richard III' to 'Richard II,' or 'Mrs. Dalloway' to 'Orlando.' They feel at liberty to discriminate. Fewer readers imagine they can create their own Stein; many feel she is beyond their capacity to understand." The

Thursday Confession

Yes, I missed Confession Tuesday. 

I will also confess that I have blown off writing in general this week for the following reasons:

a. tired
b. feeling under the weather
c. my stressors like rubber bands have been stressed to the point they no longer retract to their normal size.
d. my creativity has left he building
e. when what I write today sounds like yesterday and he day before that, something is amiss and needs a break.
f. I'm not sure, but I may not even care.

Nothing New

"Most of my life was spent not understanding, and I can assure you it was not easy."  ~ Rilke

Superbowl Sunday and I have no desire to watch this years game. The puppy bowl is no alternative because once you've seen it - you've see all there is - ad nauseum.  What I could go for is simply a special feed of the Super Bowl commercials back-to back. 

Yes, I sound a little cranky.  I'm cranky for a number of reasons of which one is the fact that for the third time since Thanksgiving, I'm sick. Three times in three months!  Who is responsable for inflicting these germs upon me? I'm ready to turn my body over the Dr. House knowing full well he'll make me sincker before I get better... but then I will have the answer.  Calling Dr. House!  Calling Dr. House!

"Patients sometimes get better. You have no idea why, but unless you give a reason they won't pay you. Anybody notice if there's a full moon? ... let's rule out the lunar god and go from there." [citation]

I'm not a person who does sick well (in case you haven't noticed) and my family knows that once I get down, it means really not feeling well because I'm the kind of person who fights it. All the time the body signs are screaming "your sick," my matra is the repeat, "you are not sick, you are not getting sick, you will not be sick..."  I suppose you could argue that there is a degree of deleriam associated with my view of the surrounding facts. 

So here I am, tired of lying around this weekend - caughing till my chest and head are sore. Feeling closed in.  Knowing that what I want to do is throw the windows open and let some air (albeit cold) throughout the house.  I want to do something besides look at the ceiling from the bed and I certainly don't waqnt to watch the Super Bowl OR the pupy bowl tape loop - both of which make my stomach turn. Yes, I know the puppies can be cute. but it isn't long before it's like reading principally the same poem written by six different people. There is nothing new. 

Confession Tusday - The Blonde Edition

It’s been one week since my last confession and I’m in a rush so let’s get to the confessional.

Dear Reader,

Yesterday, during the morning drive, I stopped at Quick Trip for a Diet Coke. My daughter, Shannon was with me because her car was being serviced. She ran inside with me and was getting a coffee (I take not responsibility for her taste in coffee) and I confessed to her that, “I had a Starbucks’ Blonde over the weekend.”  Shannon looked a little puzzled and said, “I’m not sure I’m following you.”  Realizing the duality of meaning I quickly acknowledged that I had not tried the blonde barista but rather their new light roast coffee. I suddenly realized this could have been confusing to Shannon since I normally enjoy my coffee to be a rich dark roast variety.  She has actually been so busy of late she knew nothing of the new Starbucks blend.  Actually for a dark roast kind of guy I found the new blend very palatable. I think I would consider buying it in whole bean to make at home since I usually make everything espresso strength at home anyway.

As you can likely tell if you read my earlier Journal Bits post that I’m fighting with a bunch of creative dead weight. I confess this has me in a bit of a funk and it’s been going on for several weeks now. It has started to affect my mood on a much broader level then just as it relates to my writing. In fact it has me so upset that I have tended to write less the past few days then trying to push though it by writing on.  I can’t seem to allow myself to write crap and yet I confess that I know I should just keep on working through it.  I write for twenty minutes and look at it and throw my hands in the air and pitch my journal off to the side or if I’m on the laptop just stop and fold up in frustration.

Before I get any more frustrated I’m going to call it quits on this confession.

Journal Bits

Journal Entry for Tuesday, January 31, 2012:  The ability to be receptive to some broader interpretations of even the most common events and things around me seems to have died and I’m lugging this dead body around inside of me.  I don’t know if it succumbed to some disease, died from lack of nutrition or just plain apathy— all I know is it is like dragging around dead weight that has not an ounce of creative spark alive within it.

Saturday Morning Check-in

Here I am, Saturday morning a black coffie on the right and a Diet Coke chaser awaiting on the left. It's been a week and then some all crammed into the past six days.


I've not selpt well, especially the past two nights - but not really at all that well any of the rest of the week.  Busy at work, and brought work home two nights.  Burned 5 hours of vacation time on Friday simply because I was at my max and there was really nothing relaxing about those hours.  As I watch two dogs curled up on my bed I think wow - this human stuff is exhausting.  But alas, they are about to be disturbed as I need to strip the bed clothing and wash it. They are not gonna like this!

Made a quick run to the store earlier and while I was out grabbed a glass of Starbucks Blonde. It's the first I've tried it and considering I am really into dark roast it was risk trying it but I wanted to see what it was like. It was not bad and I could see myself trying it again, especially since I almost always make my coffee at home espresso strength. 

I've been wanting to set down and do an arount the Internet look at some interesting things in the poetry and writing department that I've run across this week. Maybe you've alrady seen many of them but if not these are things worth reading.

• Grant Proposals - Some Random Thoughts - Hopefully Helpful by Susan Rich
• Finalist for T.S. Eliot Prize  by Sarah M. Wells
• It's Like Facebook For The Art World  by Read Write Web
• Poetry Fights Back Boston Review
• Not Wordless Wednesday – mission statement musings…  Being Poetry

Sunday Rumpus Fiction: Ten Reasons Not to Sleep with a Poet

If you want a good laugh check out - Sunday Rumpus Fiction: Ten Reasons Not to Sleep with a Poet by Stacy Berlein

I think my favorites are Numbers 4 and 8.  What a crackup!

Creativity is...

"Creativity is not the finding of a thing but the making something out of it after it is found." – James Russell Lowell

Confesson Tuesday

Another week has passed. How does this happen? Who authorizes it? Do I get any say in the matter? Evidently not  **sigh** but I guess it’s happening to everyone else so—  Oh well **another sigh**

If you were hoping for some juicy admissions I’m probably going to let you down, but I’ve let people down before.  But I suppose you came to eavesdrop on my confession so let’s get started.  

Dear Reader:

It’s been a week of highs and lows for a 49er fan. Somewhere in all of that I’m reminded why I like baseball better then football. Like life itself the baseball season has its highs and lows but all he while the curve moves slower. The season, even he post-season is about endurance and unfolds with a bit more grace. If things go well it’s more like building to a crescendo but that can be just as exciting.  So yes, I confess that I was disappointed by the outcome of Sunday’s 49ers playoff game.

Last night I installed a new door lock and what the box said was a 5 minute job was something more like 35 minutes. I confess I was no pleased with myself. Of course anything that involves building or rebuilding, installing or fixing is not my forte. If you could make a cottage industry out of gambling on my fix-it qualities (which is an oxymoron itself) you could make a killing off betting it will take me a long time to finish.

So Paula Deen has diabetes. I confess I am not surprised that the Queen of Butter has the big D.  Did no one else see his coming?  I lunched with some people last week that were outraged that she has known for some 3 plus years and still pushed her unhealthy recipes on us all. What was she thinking they asked? Un… the big M!

My creativity seems to have been stifled of late. I confess that last night I work up feeling I had to write though I didn’t’ know what to write. So I turned on a light and simply did a journal entry. Hey, it’s writing!

That’s it for this week…. be safe and be happy!