One of my daughters distributed this among all our immediate family. Is she trying to tell me something?
Friday, January 21, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Confession Tuesday - Rebellious Late Edition
It’s been a snow, the threat of a bigger snow, one more group of submissions, a lot of new “very rough” drafts and a week and a day since my last confession.
To the Confessional~
Dear Reader:
Yes, I must confess that last night I came home, made dinner for my sweetheart and promptly crashed. I didn’t turn on my laptop, did not read, write, and obviously did not do my Tuesday confession. And I confess that it was not a matter of forgetting, but willful neglect, maybe even rebellion as I two or three times (at least) thought of getting up to do it.
It seems there is a bit of rebelliousness that seems to be running through my veins these last few days. I have as suspicion as to the reason, but I will leave it at that for now. I choose to honestly confess on this point, not openly speculate on the causation. (I’m not my own therapist) ;)
While I’m not deep into astrology… for example I don’t read my horoscope daily – and when I do, it’s more for the entertainment value than anything else; I do take stock in the fact that the personality traits that are generally ascribed Capricorns fit me well. I’ve often felt comfort in this. It’s sort like being a part of a certain Irish clan. It’s the brotherhood of Capricorns – and all of our (better) traits that make it feel special. So along comes a thirteenth zodiac sign and butts into the calendar and moves all the days around and – WTF? Now I’m a Sagittarius? I confess I do not like this. Not one bit!
Was this brought to us by the same people who de-planetized Pluto? And thirteen? That’s not divisible by even numbers, it’s an unlucky number, it’s more than the number of months in a year, it’s…. you get the picture. It’s just not kosher.
So there you have it. My confession, a day late and a little put out.
Hope you and your week are properly aligned to an even number of stars.
To the Confessional~
Dear Reader:
Yes, I must confess that last night I came home, made dinner for my sweetheart and promptly crashed. I didn’t turn on my laptop, did not read, write, and obviously did not do my Tuesday confession. And I confess that it was not a matter of forgetting, but willful neglect, maybe even rebellion as I two or three times (at least) thought of getting up to do it.
It seems there is a bit of rebelliousness that seems to be running through my veins these last few days. I have as suspicion as to the reason, but I will leave it at that for now. I choose to honestly confess on this point, not openly speculate on the causation. (I’m not my own therapist) ;)
While I’m not deep into astrology… for example I don’t read my horoscope daily – and when I do, it’s more for the entertainment value than anything else; I do take stock in the fact that the personality traits that are generally ascribed Capricorns fit me well. I’ve often felt comfort in this. It’s sort like being a part of a certain Irish clan. It’s the brotherhood of Capricorns – and all of our (better) traits that make it feel special. So along comes a thirteenth zodiac sign and butts into the calendar and moves all the days around and – WTF? Now I’m a Sagittarius? I confess I do not like this. Not one bit!
Was this brought to us by the same people who de-planetized Pluto? And thirteen? That’s not divisible by even numbers, it’s an unlucky number, it’s more than the number of months in a year, it’s…. you get the picture. It’s just not kosher.
So there you have it. My confession, a day late and a little put out.
Hope you and your week are properly aligned to an even number of stars.
Monday, January 17, 2011
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:
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.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Poetry Trailers
It's amazing the way trailers have moved into the world poetry. Not long ago these were generally associated with the release of film, but no longer. Audio visuals are being done more routinely as trailers for poetry books. Just today I saw on the poet Diane Lockward's blog site titled Blogalicious a video of one of here poems put to music. The poem, Eve's Confession is from her collection of poems titled Eve's Red Dress. Go to her site here and experience it for yourself. She actually has some other trailers on this site you can check out. Look at the tab links under the header to find these.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
They go out - they come back. Poems looking for homes
I've been busy reforming my ways this year submitting to four different journals so far. Significant because I have come to dislike this part of writing over the past couple of years.
Things are looking up! Yesterday, I received the following rejection e-mail from one of my submission groupings of poems:
Things are looking up! Yesterday, I received the following rejection e-mail from one of my submission groupings of poems:
Some nice lines in there, Michael, especially in Mount Rushmore. Overall, they didn't seem right for XXXXXX Review. We have decided to pass this time.
...We appreciate you considering us submission-worthy. Please wait at least a week before submitting again.
Best,
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Confession Tuesday - Way too old edition
Confession time has arrived again. I feel like I have a lot I'm lugging around so what do you say we get started?
Dear Reader-
It's been another four poems sent out in search of new homes, a snow storm, a birthday and a tragedy since my last confession.
This weekend was surreal. It was surreal in the context both of disbelief and yet a feeling we've been here before. Of course we haven't actually been here, but I confess that this feels in a very sad and very senseless way like that summer of 1968. The assassination attempt on Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, the death of a 9 year old girl, a federal judge, one of Giffords staffers, and at least 3 others dead and something like 14 more wounded. The number is staggeringly hazy to me even now.
I confess that I fail to see why anyone in the public sector needs to be able to purchase an extended magazine clip for a firearm. If you are not police or military it seems senseless. Between Sept. 13, 1994 and Sept. 13, 2004 The Federal Assault Weapons Ban (AWB) or Public Safety and Recreational Firearms Use Protection Act as it was subtitled, prevented the sale to individuals of such ammunition. But during the second Bush presidency, the NRA prevailed in creating a climate in which neither President Bush or the bulk of Congress had the courage to support renewal of it.
I confess to feeling a sickening indignation over the lack of common sense in this country where firearms are concerned. It's a sad commentary - not unlike that of MADD (mothers against drunk drivers) that for many to become proactive, they have to lose someone close to them before they realize the price we pay for our cultural affair with firearms is simply not worth it.
Yesterday, I turned @&. I confess that I've been bothered by my aging for far longer then most people are. I know lots who are bothered come the big 40. Some even at 35, and a few at 30. I think the 30 year old cases must be pretty hard core. But I'll go one further. I was starting to feel the anxiety come age 25. Yes, you heard it right... 25. Of course now I confess I'd be tickled to go back to 30 again.
That's about it for this week. I've got several things to do before bed time tonight. May your week, what's left of it, be a good one!
Dear Reader-
It's been another four poems sent out in search of new homes, a snow storm, a birthday and a tragedy since my last confession.
This weekend was surreal. It was surreal in the context both of disbelief and yet a feeling we've been here before. Of course we haven't actually been here, but I confess that this feels in a very sad and very senseless way like that summer of 1968. The assassination attempt on Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, the death of a 9 year old girl, a federal judge, one of Giffords staffers, and at least 3 others dead and something like 14 more wounded. The number is staggeringly hazy to me even now.
I confess that I fail to see why anyone in the public sector needs to be able to purchase an extended magazine clip for a firearm. If you are not police or military it seems senseless. Between Sept. 13, 1994 and Sept. 13, 2004 The Federal Assault Weapons Ban (AWB) or Public Safety and Recreational Firearms Use Protection Act as it was subtitled, prevented the sale to individuals of such ammunition. But during the second Bush presidency, the NRA prevailed in creating a climate in which neither President Bush or the bulk of Congress had the courage to support renewal of it.
I confess to feeling a sickening indignation over the lack of common sense in this country where firearms are concerned. It's a sad commentary - not unlike that of MADD (mothers against drunk drivers) that for many to become proactive, they have to lose someone close to them before they realize the price we pay for our cultural affair with firearms is simply not worth it.
Yesterday, I turned @&. I confess that I've been bothered by my aging for far longer then most people are. I know lots who are bothered come the big 40. Some even at 35, and a few at 30. I think the 30 year old cases must be pretty hard core. But I'll go one further. I was starting to feel the anxiety come age 25. Yes, you heard it right... 25. Of course now I confess I'd be tickled to go back to 30 again.
That's about it for this week. I've got several things to do before bed time tonight. May your week, what's left of it, be a good one!
Magpie Tales - 48 / Poem: I Can Imagine
I Can Imagine
Somewhere between the cotton weave
of a sheer web smeared across the flatness
of old sheets of inked notes silent
on pages as brittle as the print is delicate;
and the stuffy air of a concert hall
far off in some other time, I can imagine
the Cantata’s rising echo of voice
on the tail of instrumentation
jostling back and forth
each fighting for their due
recognition— the orchestra
in a winning moment heeds
the directors baton— going allegro.
Voices bow to strings and horns
until a disquieting roll of timpani ushers in
one final melding of chorus and instruments.
2011 © - Michael A. Wells
Sunday, January 09, 2011
Unconscious Mutterings - Week 115
You say... I think:
- 1.Speech :: free
- 2.Meredith :: broadcasting
- 3.Consensus :: maker
- 4.Attack :: plan of
- 5.Sue :: litigate
- 6.Voted :: democracy
- 7.Epic :: journey
- 8.Checking in :: at home
- 9.Dishwasher :: liquid
- 10.Underneath :: car
Get your own list here
Friday, January 07, 2011
Magpie Tales 47 - Poem: Deranged
Deranged
The drip a mystery,
the puddle, rust flavored;
the drain too far away.
A contorted idea-
a trick knob,
the mirror of a sick mind.
2111 © Michael A. Wells
Thursday, January 06, 2011
"...point out the inequities, nothing to lose but our chains."
I read this blog post today by Kristin Berkey-Abbott: Artifacts from the Deep Freeze of the Cold War. It was her trip back into the past as she visited the Cold War years and concluded a poem she had written. The final stanza reads:
Over a year ago, another poet introduced me to Carolyn Forché, an incredible poet who has established a reputation as a poet of witness. Carolyn very often writes poems that take us very gently into social injustice. I'm not sure if she is changing the world one reader at a time but she certainly has the ability, with great subtlety to unmask things that might otherwise go unnoticed by many.
What do you think? Can poets change the world?
These lines so expressed what I believe many of my generation put so much stock in. Thinking that calling out inequities would lead to an end of a multitude of injustices. Idealistic? Naive? Still, as I began to adapt to the life of a poet, putting such things into "my poet perspective," I've had to ask myself if I really believe I can change the world with poems? Do I think anyone can?
I write my own poems. I imagine they will change
the world, that all I must do to rid the planet of injustice
is to point out the inequities, nothing to lose but our chains.
Over a year ago, another poet introduced me to Carolyn Forché, an incredible poet who has established a reputation as a poet of witness. Carolyn very often writes poems that take us very gently into social injustice. I'm not sure if she is changing the world one reader at a time but she certainly has the ability, with great subtlety to unmask things that might otherwise go unnoticed by many.
What do you think? Can poets change the world?
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Confession Tuesday
A new year and a first confession of the new year. Come follow me to the booth...
Dear Reader:
It's been one week since my last confession. One week of crazy weather ranging from nearly 60 down to the mid to lower teens. A week of sniffles (go figure) and reflections (looking back on the year, not staring in the mirror in an act vanity). But I confess I am I am already getting acclimated to the new year.
As a rule I don't plan out resolutions as such. But I do hold some hopes some goals close to my heart. Some things that will require me to be better at things this year then past.
On New Years day I cranked out my first packet of poetry submissions of the year. I posted this in my Facebook status to which Diane Lockwood replied, " Don't brag. It's unattractive." Her remark made me laugh, but I confess I've come to resist submitting my work these past two years like the plague. But my post was my way of establishing some accountability. The next day, I sent off a second packet. I'm finished for the week except for some home work of planning my next victim, I mean venue to submit to next week. The thing is that I kicked myself in the butt to get started and I want to keep some feeling of momentum.
If I'm happy and upbeat about submitting my work, I'm cranky about the price of gas. I confess that every time gas nears the $3 range or above I get this way. I'm trying to be more positive and upbeat about things, but it seems that not only are we shelling out more for gas, we are driving a lot more these days. When I hear on NPR about countries paying $7 a gallon I don't know how they do it.
Someone at the office cheered my up this week reminding me that pitchers and catchers will be reporting to spring training camps soon. (mid February). "Right around the corner." I believe where her words. I confess my interest in Football has run it's course since my fantasy league is over. Even the Chief's surprise of reaching the playoffs does little for me. For one thing I'm under no delusions about the team's chances. I'm ready for baseball. But, when have I not been? ;)
Dear Reader:
It's been one week since my last confession. One week of crazy weather ranging from nearly 60 down to the mid to lower teens. A week of sniffles (go figure) and reflections (looking back on the year, not staring in the mirror in an act vanity). But I confess I am I am already getting acclimated to the new year.
As a rule I don't plan out resolutions as such. But I do hold some hopes some goals close to my heart. Some things that will require me to be better at things this year then past.
On New Years day I cranked out my first packet of poetry submissions of the year. I posted this in my Facebook status to which Diane Lockwood replied, " Don't brag. It's unattractive." Her remark made me laugh, but I confess I've come to resist submitting my work these past two years like the plague. But my post was my way of establishing some accountability. The next day, I sent off a second packet. I'm finished for the week except for some home work of planning my next victim, I mean venue to submit to next week. The thing is that I kicked myself in the butt to get started and I want to keep some feeling of momentum.
If I'm happy and upbeat about submitting my work, I'm cranky about the price of gas. I confess that every time gas nears the $3 range or above I get this way. I'm trying to be more positive and upbeat about things, but it seems that not only are we shelling out more for gas, we are driving a lot more these days. When I hear on NPR about countries paying $7 a gallon I don't know how they do it.
Someone at the office cheered my up this week reminding me that pitchers and catchers will be reporting to spring training camps soon. (mid February). "Right around the corner." I believe where her words. I confess my interest in Football has run it's course since my fantasy league is over. Even the Chief's surprise of reaching the playoffs does little for me. For one thing I'm under no delusions about the team's chances. I'm ready for baseball. But, when have I not been? ;)
Sunday, January 02, 2011
My attempt at algebra for today
If, as Carlos Fuentes says, "Writing is a struggle against silence" ~
then I'm thinking submitting is a struggle against failure.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Unconscious Mutterings - week 413
You say.... I Think:
- 1.Detective :: Holmes
- 2.Bra :: Underwire
- 3.Prove it :: Confirm
- 4.The end :: Conclusion
- 5.Messy :: Trashy
- 6.Immovable :: Stationary
- 7.Jingle :: Rhyme
- 8.False :: Wrong
- 9.Comprehend :: Understand
- 10.Scream :: Yell
Gold Star
First day of the new year - I've sent out a submission with four poems to kick off 2011. Got to be better about this!
Friday, December 31, 2010
2010 Looking Back
A Looking back on the year ending ....
We said Hello to:
- Health Care Reform
- Inception
- Toy Story 3
- Ipad
- Chevy Volt
- Groupons
- Glee
- Hot in Cleveland
- Rand Paul
- Bailouts
- John Boehner
- Tears
- Orange skin tone
- Joe Miller
- Scott Brown
- Lady GaGa
- Katy Perry
- San Francisco Giants
- Body Scans
- Branding (not cattle)
- Cupcakes
- Jerry (Moonbeam) Brown - again
- Redistricting
- Borrowing from China
- Tax breaks for the wealthy
- Bill Clinton - again
We said Goodbye to:
- Joe Miller
- Witches
- Christine O'Donnell
- Toyota
- Texting while driving
- San Diego Padres
- Texas Rangers
- Sheen in the Gulf
- Crashing State Dinners
- Tom Delay
- Jobs
- Failed Banks
- Privacy
- Trading Chickens for Health Care
- Census
- Immigration reform
- Swine Flu
- BP
- Hallaburton by any name
- Dick Cheney
- Don't ask don't tell
A Few People Who Passed On in 2010
- Barbara Billingsly
- Art Linkletter
- Tony Curtis
- Eddie Fisher
- George Steinbrenner
- J.D. Salanger
- Joan Southerlans
- Edward M. Kennedy
- John Forsythe
- Lech Kaczynski
- Lynn Redgrave
- Lena Horne
- Peter Graves
- Tom Bosley
- TeddyPendergrass
- Bella Akhmadulina
- Robert Dana
- Andrei Voznesensky
- Robert Byrd
- Lucille Clifton
Your List? - Who and What did I miss?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Magpie Tales 46- Poem: No Choice
No Choice-
You left me
like a hand removed
from gloves—
flat and limp.
What could you do?
The bird had no tweet;
the stem lacked any bud.
I was poison;
you water—
you could only dilute me
but always there would be venom.
2010© Michael A. Wells
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Confession Tuesday - It's Right Where I Put It Edition
Dear Reader:
For a long time I would save my floating holiday for the 29th of December to be able to have to day off to celebrate our youngest daughter's birthday. Since she is out of the area now, there is no need to do this. I've taken it already this month. So tonight I set here reflecting upon the fact that her mother and I won't see her tomorrow and I confess this leaves this year ending on a flat key.
Year endings often seem melancholy to me. It's seems like it has been a while since I recall feeling upbeat about a year that has passed or particularly excited about the new one we are embarking on.
I confess that I try to approach each new year walking a fine line between seeking to improve myself and yet shying from specific New Year Resolutions.
I've talked before about my obsession with organization and my challenge turn it into action. This year I hope to tackle one thing at a time get things in better order. Starting with cleaning up my laptop and better organizing the files on it, especially my writing files. I also want to organize my paper files better. But these are just starting points. I confess that I often put things in places where I think I can easily retrieve them only to find that I can't quite recall where that place was. Ugh!
Tonight I checked out the annual debut poets roundup in the latest edition of Poets & Writers. This is one of my favorite features in P&W because I'm always interested to see if I know anyone who made the list. This year none of them were familure to me. Still, I enjoy reading the little bullet information about each one of the. How old they are. How long they were working on their manuscript. How long it took to find a publisher. Number of contests, etc. Their advise to others. I confess that reading these makes me wish I had started writing at least 15 years earlier.
Wishing my daughter happy birthday! Wishing everyone a safe and happy New Year. See you at the confessional in 2011!
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Crumpets and a Movie
Sunday morning, someone is drawing bath water, the dogs are quiet and my stomach to talking to me. I hear, but ignore.
I haven't blogged in days. I started to late last night but ended up deleting before I was finished and went to bed. That's kind of how I've been these past four days. Sort of here but not really. I have not felt well and until Christmas eve I was in denial that I was sick (a common defensive tactic of mine) and simply wrote it off as sinus related stuff - but I've decided now it's some kind of upper respiratory thingy.
My loving wife made me homemade crumpets and ham on Christmas and I watched Il Postino (recommended by Kelli Agodon) - which I enjoyed in spite of following the subtitles in my fuzzy head.
I will watch it again soon and probably enjoy it more if my eyes and brain are working better together.
I've written already this morning, so the day has started well. Holding off on breakfast as long as I can - my blood sugar numbers are a little elevated as a result of being sick.
Have several things I want to get done today - but I don't want to push myself. I really have too much to do at the office not to go in tomorrow, so I don't want to overdue things today.
I pulled my copy of Unmentionables
by Beth Ann Fennelly off the night stand to read a few poems this morning. Feel like a cup of coffee, but not till I have something else in my stomach first. Off to read now. Maybe, just maybe I'll have something more profound to say when I rejoin the world in another post later today.
I haven't blogged in days. I started to late last night but ended up deleting before I was finished and went to bed. That's kind of how I've been these past four days. Sort of here but not really. I have not felt well and until Christmas eve I was in denial that I was sick (a common defensive tactic of mine) and simply wrote it off as sinus related stuff - but I've decided now it's some kind of upper respiratory thingy.
My loving wife made me homemade crumpets and ham on Christmas and I watched Il Postino (recommended by Kelli Agodon) - which I enjoyed in spite of following the subtitles in my fuzzy head.
I will watch it again soon and probably enjoy it more if my eyes and brain are working better together.I've written already this morning, so the day has started well. Holding off on breakfast as long as I can - my blood sugar numbers are a little elevated as a result of being sick.
Have several things I want to get done today - but I don't want to push myself. I really have too much to do at the office not to go in tomorrow, so I don't want to overdue things today.
I pulled my copy of Unmentionables
by Beth Ann Fennelly off the night stand to read a few poems this morning. Feel like a cup of coffee, but not till I have something else in my stomach first. Off to read now. Maybe, just maybe I'll have something more profound to say when I rejoin the world in another post later today.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Patriotism
For a writer only one form of patriotism exists: his attitude toward language.
~ Joseph Brodsky
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