Poet's Mailbag

This week the mail man brought several writing related items...  My recollection is a subscription advertisement for the Writer's Chronicle and a flyer with upcoming classes at the Writers Place.  Seems there may have been something else.

Yesterday, I received the first rejection letter of the year. It was electronic but contained a personal note that read," Dear Michael, I just wanted you to know that your poems made it to the final round of consideration. Sorry to say no this time. Do try us again during our fall reading period..."   If you are going to get a rejection letter there is a certain comfort in knowing your work stayed alive in the consideration for a while. Seriously - it helps to look at your submission and think what if anything you might have done different or consider perhaps a different journal as a better fit. In this particular case I did feel good about this particular submission. You know how sometimes you send something out and for days later you have regrets...  this one never was that way.

Anyway, may the postman and e-mail bring good news in the week ahead!

Confession Tuesday - Birthday Edition...

Dear Reader:  If it's Tuesday, this muse be my confession.

Yes, my friends, I confess this is my birthday.  I will not however confess my age.  But for the record, I sometimes feel older then our nation. Sometimes when the knees get cranky I feel older then dirt!  But today, not so. Today, I'm embracing the philosophy that I'm as young as I feel and I refuse to be my age.

I confess that I was pretty overwhelmed this morning that an attorney on our staff baked a birthday cake for me and brought it into the office. Our staff works damn hard during the day and the thought that one of them would go home after a long hard day and take the time to do this was incredible to me.

My wife and I stopped on the way home from work and had BBQ at Benny's.  It was just the two of us and it was nice and relaxing. Then home and took in a couple of TV programs we like and peeked off and on at the NH primary returns.

I confess that by this time last year I had sent out something like 8 submission packets and this year I've not sent out a single one during the new year. I need to because the number of outstanding submissions has dwindled down to single digits. Still, in spite of the fact I hope to send out more this year then last, I am not stressing. No, I am perfectly calm. I've got some places in mind and in relative short order I intend to start kicking them out. If I haven't by next Tuesday, then I might start stressing.

So there you have it. A year older but staying cool!  I'm feeling comfortable in my Capricorn digs!

Magpie Tales - poem: Untitled

Utilitarian art

boxes in Duffy square.

Girders and panels rise

poking the Troposphere.

Windows offer a glimpse

of ground life—

crisscross traffic,

news barkers,

theater goers,

Father Duffy at attention;

Yul Brenner glares—

have you bought your tickets?



Michael A. Wells

Magpie99

Journal Bits From The Past Weerk

January 1, 2012 - a list of some words to draw from in writing later today:

• envelope
• transparent
• drowning
• revenge
• realized
• absence
• pinnacle
• trolley
• echo
• ordinary
• daybreak
• humming
• pale
• crevice

January 3, 2012 - Important to establish very strong routine in a lot of things that I do and writing is but one of them... that requires discipline on my part.

What are the chances that I could crack into _a certain literary journal_ this year?  ... I could move on to another goal - seek another level of success for my work.

January 4, 2012 - Last night I did not do my scheduled write so I need to make up for it tonight.

January 6, 2012 - the sky is a reflection of a coral reef / the soon setting sun offers / a peachy-pink take on them / it's Friday and work is left behind / ahead the lanes merge into a spinal / tension - if only I was headed home / but the sunset should be behind / and we drive into it...

January 7, 2012 - I almost sent a poem off today I've submitted elsewhere but I though about it just before I emailed it and decided against it becuse I would rather it find a home someplace I've already sent it and decided to be patient and allow for that possibility.

Thought for the Day

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.  ~ William Butler Yeats

Confession Tuesday - the Late Edition

Dear Reader:  I put the trash on the curb this morning and therefore I know I missed the first Confession Tuesday of the New Year.  As a result, here I stand humbled by my lapse but ready to make amends.

I confess that I usually write the old year on things for weeks into the New Year but have not done so once yet. Do you think this is a sign I was so ready to be done with 2011?  I may be off on my days (Monday seemed like Sunday since we had it off therefor today should be Tuesday but Thank God It’s Not!) but I do know this is a whole different year!

I confess that I have my sights on publication in a specific Journal this year. I won’t divulge which one… Actually I have several in mind, but one in particular that I’d like to see my work in and no; its initials are not N.Y.  What I have my sights set on would be a big step for me but not that big!  I am realistic if nothing else.

I confess my Iowa GOP predictions were slightly off last night. I anticipated Ron Paul winning by a squeaker when in fact he was 3rd by a squeaker.  I also told one of my associates I didn’t expect the GOP turnout to be any higher then 4 years ago.  Again, wrong.  They were slightly ahead of 4 years ago in terms of participants. Still, it was no the massive turn out that many suggested.   I confess that all my direct Iowa political experience is on the Democratic side and that as far as the Republicans are concerned it has only been as a keen observer.

I’m not real big on New Year Resolutions because I kind of feel they are doomed to failure from the start.  I’ve got a few goals for the year and that is how I refer to them. I confess this makes them seem manageable. I do think the New Year affords us magnificent opportunity annually.  It’s like opening day in baseball. The clock is reset and everyone (theoretically) is on par. For one day everyone is tied for first place regardless of advantages, payroll or handicaps and the race begins. It even smells fresh – like the cut grass on the field.  I always have felt baseball, life and poetry are interchangeable metaphors.  Hey, I’m a Capricorn and a romantic. What did you expect?  

Mag 98 / Poem: A Reminder

The bent elbow
slows progression-
force builds
pushing the river
around
over and beyond  

the banks like claws
snag what is delivered
from upstream

when the anger
has burnt itself out
the raging water fading
to original dignity-
scattered on banks
remain the wrath





Michael A. Wells



Magpie 98

Overnight

A white knuckled fist

griping at the question

pale

momentary     

         bloodletting – leaches

                revenge

cryogenic reality 
enveloped–

brittle regions of home

             and

lessons of melodious rambling

in hurtful octaves 

breaches – unfurled platitudes

 transparency at daybreak

Happy New Year!

I was so ready for 2011 to be over with. It s could not even limp onto the a list of my favorite years. Do I have expectation that next year will be better?  I can hope, but expectation is a pretty definitive word.

I've Prepared a list of some things I want to do in 2012.  They are specific, measurable in terms of success or failure.  Here is my list so far to the kick the year (in no particular order):

• Read the book The War of Art.
• Send 112 poetry submissions out.
• Clean and reorganize my home office.
• Clean the garage.
• Finish draft of manuscript.
• Schedule weekly writing time at least on week in advance

From a writing standpoint I suppose I have to acknowledge I had more publication successes then 2010. That said, there is plenty of room for improvement in writing and everything else.

I hope everyone else has a spectacular year.

Peace!

Michael

thought for the day on writers

And a little humor to kick off the new year...


There is no way that writers can be tamed and rendered civilized or even cured. The only solution known to science is to provide the patient with an isolation room, where he can endure the acute stages in private and where food can be poked in to him with a stick.   ~   Robert A. Heinlein

The Irony in GOP Election Hypocrisy

For some time the Republican party has systematically sought to enact stringent Voter ID requirements state by state. They have argued this is to stem voter fraud in spite of the fact that independent studies around the nation have uncovered no evidence that this has in fact been a problem.  These changes have in fact been sanctioned by the Republican party for one purpose only: to suppress the votes of voters such as the elderly, minorities and students, all of whom traditionally have been Democratic constituencies.

Okay, if voter fraud were a real concern for Republicans you would think they would have adopted more stringent safeguards for next week's Iowa Presidential Caucuses, but not so. Since this has never been about voter fraud  the GOP will again not bother to make Iowa Republicans show such ID before voting in their caucuses.

Both the Republican and Democratic Parties control their own nomination process rules and this is not left to the whims of legislative bodies so in Iowa this hypocrisy is directly within the Republican Party control. Seem strange to you?

Oh, and before you say oh, such requirement isn't really a deterrent to anyone casting votes, check here and here and here.  These are real people, real voters.

natural energy resource

Poetry is a natural energy resource of our country. It has no energy crisis, possessing a potential that will last as long as the country. Its power is equal to that of any country in the world. ~ Richard Eberhart

A Blog post worth reading! Reasons to be thankful!

Kelli Agodon on Thankful Thusday - some real food for thought!  If you don't think you have cause to be thankful read this and think again.  Thanks Kelli for the eye opening post!

2 for 1 on Creativiy

A hunch is creativity trying to tell you something. ~ Frank Capra

~0~

A wonderful emotion to get things moving when one is stuck is anger. It was anger more than anything else that had set me off, roused me into productivity and creativity. ~ Mary Garden

Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader:

It's been one week since my last confession. Christmas has come and gone. So has Festivus and Boxing Day. Of course the last two aren't on my radar for celebrating but I really feel like Christmas passed me by this year. Thanksgiving too. Illness visited me for not just one but both holidays. I did get out to a couple of holiday events but really overdid it at both. I was back at work today but I confess I'm still not 100%.  Do I dare hold out hope of feeling well for New Years?

I confess that today I started thinking about a Subway meatball sandwich as early as 1 p.m. (my lunch salad just settling in my stomach)  By 4 p.m. I called my wife at work and asked her if she'd like to stop at Subway on the way home for dinner. I'm not a big Subway fan so this probably came as a shock to her. She was up for it so we did.  It was ummmm - good!

The Iowa caucuses are one week away and while I've been following  closely I admit it seems so totally foreign because it is all about the GOP.  Iowa is a neighboring state and there are many times I've joined others who have migrated to the state to campaign for candidates in advance of the caucuses.  Each of these have been for democratic candidates and so I confess that thinking of Iowa void of early Democratic battles is surreal. 

I confess that after paying 2.85 recently for gas my stomach did not make it's traditional growling sound. I have no delusions of it lasting.

Yes, it's Resolutions time again.  Will I have some? I confess I'm split over it even as the year is ticking away.  I will settle on an answer by New Years and let you know.

May the rest of your 2011 keep you safe and see you into the New Year!

In the Spirit of Giving and Taking....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

deja vu all over

Sick through Thanksgiving and a resurgence hitting me ahead of Christmas. I went to the doctor this morning and returned home for bed rest. I'm feeling the Grinch has stolen my health for the holidays.

It's difficult to focus on anything - head hurts from all the coughing. I go from chills to hot. I want to sleep but I'm tired of sleeping.

Writing and reading are easy with my headache and my eyes feel strained without even trying to read.  It's not a pretty picture. 

If you were looking for an uplifting post, you came to the wrong place. But there is hope... maybe tomorrow or even Saturday things will turn around.I may not be flat on my beck for Christmas as I was on Thanksgiving,  My fingers are crossed. I'd cross my eyes too but it hurts too much!

The Star’s Top 100 Books of 2011 - KansasCity.com

The Star’s Top 100 Books of 2011 - KansasCity.com

Among the Top 100 the Star select the following Poetry Books:

• “Bone Fires: New and Selected Poems,” by Mark Jarman (Sarabande Books). Following the development of Jarman’s poetry and his uncompromising vision of poetry-making as sacred work, our contributor, Michelle Boisseau, found herself amazed again and again at how the unaffected discipline of Jarman’s craft helps him plumb the reaches of human experience. One of the most moving and exhilarating experiences she had this year reading poetry.

•  “Anthony Hecht: Selected Poems,” edited by J. D. McClatchy (Knopf). Hecht, who died in 2004, was a poet of technical brilliance and terrifying depths who made unforgettable poems that have achieved permanence in the American canon. 

•  “Space, in Chains,” by Laura Kasischke (Copper Canyon). It takes a poet of Kasischke’s extraordinary gifts to render fragmentation and loss with the intense clarity of dream in her eighth collection. • “The FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Latin American Poetry,” edited by Ilan Stavans (Farrar Straus). Work by 84 poets from 16 countries, translated (by the likes of Elizabeth Bishop, Samuel Beckett and W.S. Merwin) from Portuguese and Spanish as well as from languages like Mapuche and Zapotec. This thrilling, dynamic multilingual anthology includes monumental figures like Borges and Neruda and introduces to wider audiences indigenous poets like Elicura Chihuailaf and younger poets remapping the New World.

• “The City, Our City,” by Wayne Miller (Milkweed Editions). The muse of this exquisite collection is an imagined contemporary metropolis (with flashes of Kansas City, Miller’s current city) that thrives simultaneously with the lost cities it has risen from and falls toward, allowing the poet’s urbanites to grasp the continuity of human tragedy and joy. 

•  “Taller When Prone,” by Les Murray (Farrar, Straus and Giroux). In the newest of his 14 poetry collections, the brilliant Murray crosses the globe and his beloved and infuriating Australia, leveling his muscular wit at our foibles in poems that are inventive, tender and water-tight. 

•  “The Wrecking Light,” by Robin Robertson (Picador). Coming from a place along the icy fathoms of the North Sea, the currency of this major Scots poet is spare, heart-rending lyrics and haunting narratives that suggest the salt glinting from the granite.

Read more here

Confession Tuesday - One of those moments

Tuesday again... how does this happen?

Come with me to the confessional... 

Dear Reader:

It's been one week since my last confession. One circular week I fear.  Between yesterday and today I fear the pneumonia is trying to make a comeback for the Christmas holiday. Tried to get in to see my doctor and can't be seen till Thursday morning (sigh)  I confess that this is disheartening because it takes a lot for me to reach the point of wanting to go to the Doctor. Damn!  Psyched up for nothing and I'll have to do it all over again tomorrow night in order to be ready Thursday morning. Assuming I'm still alive!

Now there is a much bigger confession coming.  One that has had my family laughing.  During this past week my daughter called one afternoon and asked me to take Gabe out for her. Gabe is a dog temporarily in residence with us. I went down to the family room and retrieved him from his kennel and escorted him up the stairs and out back. After doing his business I lead him back downstairs on his leash.  We walked right past his kennel and I opened a door to the utility room. Inside I turned the light on with the pull chain. Then stooped to open the door to the front load washer wider. Looking back a Gabe I saw a dog with the most contorted quizzical look on his face looking at the opening and them back to me. It took me a moment to realize what I'm sure Gabe already knew...  And now you know too!

May you know the dog from the laundry in the week ahead!

Thought for the Day

"A man's life is nothing but an extended trek through the detours of art to recapture those one or two moments when his heart first opened." ~ Albert Camus