The Mag 194

The Letter

The nights are cold without you.
The days much too long.

Distance is measured
by lustful thoughts-
I cannot help.

I send this not to guilt you
but because my lips can reach you
no other way.

I have sealed the envelope
with the dampness of my tongue in hope-
and the stamp a breath & kiss.



Michael A. Wells


The Mag 194

The Case Against Broad Government Surveillance

For a while I thought I might be coming at the matter of government surveillance from a different perspective then a lot of people. I read comments from others who say they are a little concerned but they say they just always figure the government is listening in anyway.

I'm a product of the Vietnam generation and we came to learn that President Nixon had agents going to peace rallies and document participants. Of course their efforts were remedial by surveillance standards today but the fact is they kept file on people they considered a threat to this country because they exercised their constitutional right to assembly to protest our involvement in Vietnam. Think what he could have done with the technology available today? I'm relatively confident that Nixon was so paranoid of average Americans that he would be salivating over what the government is doing today to you and I.

I was both encouraged and discouraged by a PEN America survey of American writers that found 85% are worried about government surveillance and 73% have never been more worried about privacy rights and freedom of the press as they are today. The encouraging part is writers are paying attention. This is a good thing.  Of course the concern doesn't alleviate the erosion of privacy. And beside from the concern there is another down side... it is impacting how writers conduct themselves.

The PEN survey indicates the 28% or nearly a third have curtailed or avoided social media activities and another 12% have seriously considered doing the same, all because of the threat of surveillance. And nearly one quarter (24%) have deliberately  avoided certain topics in phone and email conversations. Another 9% have seriously considered this avenue.

One chilling effect this is having on writers is 16%  have avoided writing or speaking  about a particular topic. Another 11% seriously considered it.

The report goes on....

• 16% refrained from conducting searches on the Internet or visiting websites on topics they consider controversial.
• 13% have taken steps to disguise or cover their digital footprints. 
• 3% have actually declined opportunities to meet in person or electronically with persons how might be deemed security threats by the government. 

In each of these instances there were measurable numbers who seriously considered taking these same drastic steps.

It troubles me that writers, be they journalists or or in the literary arts are finding themselves self-censoring over fear from our own government.

The 4th Amendment, freedom of the press is necessary to assure the survival of the republic against the kinds controls the brought to power fascist governments in Germany, the Soviet Union and China in years past. These are some of the same kinds of extremes we are seeing in many middle-eastern countries as well.

I am not convinced that a more secure America is one in which we are all under the watchful eyes of the government. That is an awesome power and one that can very easily lead to dangers in our democracy right here at home.

The press, the arts were all under watchful eyes in  Nazi Germany. The government controlled the flow of information and yes even the arts. Knowledge is a powerful freedom for people. The control of knowledge too is powerful but in subverts the liberties of people.

Confession Tuesday - Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory Edition

 I'm off to the confessional...

Dear reader:

Two weeks it's been since I was last here. I confess I cannot recall what was going on two weeks ago when I should have been do this , I just know I wasn't here.

It's funny but for some reason I think of the confessional like it's some kind of penalty box. Like in hockey. God would look funny in a black and white striped shirt and black slacks and a whistle ring on his hand, patrolling the rink of life and pretty bad assed on skates.

So I'm in the penalty box until I spill it all. Two weeks worth.

I confess that I could be a glutton for Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory Cereal - Limited Edition by Kellogg. I mean this shit is good. Good sized hunks of chocolate, almonds lightly sweetened corn type flakes and chocolate flakes as well. I could easily eat a sinful amount of it but I haven't so far. This is good right?

I confess that recently it seems that I started looking as everyone else as in one age group and me in another. (I'm in the old group) I don't know what this is about. I confess that aging has always been stressful topic for me but it's like as I slowly got older I kept moving the goal posts a little further and so I would think to myself "you are getting older" I would at the same time dismiss it as "well isn't everyone?" That was my fall back. So what, everyone else is getting older, we are just all doing it together. I don't know it this evolves from something in a conversation with my wife recently or what  but somehow I feel like while I wasn't looking  someone did a sneaky and  brought the goal post back to me.  I like to believe you are only as old as you feel. But right now, I feel I'm there. (sigh)

I confess that the K.C. Chiefs are 9-0 and I could care less.

I confess that I've been more diligent about my writing since being back in my office at home. I also confess I probably waste too much time on Facebook and Twitter, still I do find at times that I see things of value on there. Maybe not enough for the time I'm on though. I think it tends to feed my ADD.

I confess as the news of the typhoon that hit the Philippine Islands this weekend seems beyond human comprehension.

I confess I thought  I heard Anne Sexton speak to me this weekend. I wasn't profound... it was something like, "It's all about the words..."  But maybe that's more profound than I think.

Monday I was biding time waiting for a furnace repairman at my daughter's house by reading a Sharon Olds book of poems when I read something that struck me as so perfectly written that I sank in the couch and thought  what on earth am I doing?  I texted a poet friend and explained that I had read this poem and had written a lot lately but all of a sudden I was like why? I felt so totally inadequate. I confess the friend had good advice and I'm working on it.

I confess that I should be due for an acceptance or a rejection any day now. I can handle whichever.

I confess it's 91 days and 2 hours until pitchers and catchers report to spring training if anyone besides me cares.

Amen!

The Mag 193

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas

 The Ballerina's Private Warm Up

She feels the constriction 

of a cocoon and the solitude- 

therein lies the crystalline craving 

to spin herself free.

A twirl to unwind- to whip-up

the motion to unclog the black and white

all around her-  she wishes for wind

she wishes for a spin-off of gale force

to extricate her from this morose.

She rises on her toes - shaky first

then in a solid stance her arms rise 

overhead with poise a momentary pause.

There is no music, except that alone

in her head- the composition

comes with spontaneity 

Is a powerful turn 

she thrusts herself into a running leap,

long legs scissor in defiance of gravity

then another, and a third

with a solid land- quickly

rising again to a pointe

she spins again 

shaking free of the grayness

her heart pounding

her chest heaves 

as she drops down

arms collapse to the floor

head bowing supplication...

Michael A. Wells

The Mag 193

  

In Memory of Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton November 9,1928 - October 4, 1974

All day I've built

a lifetime and now

the sun sinks to 

undo it.

The horizon bleeds

and sucks its thumb.

From The Fury of Sunsets

Some time back I selected Anne Sexton as my Dead Poet Mentor.  Sometimes I lose sight of her in all the everydayness that bleeds over into my life. Once in a while I've been hung up on a poem that I'm rewriting and I'll ask myself, What Would Anne Do? (WWAD) If nothing comes to me right away I'll go to my poetry library and pull out my copy of The Complete Poems - Anne Sexton and just open it wherever my thumb takes me and start reading. Sometimes something will speak out to me about what I'm working on.. Other times I just read. But in the end, her voice leaves me feeling that I'm not along. That this is the road all poets go down. Sometimes we struggle for what to say. It isn't easy. Did we ever think it was supposed to be?   

Let The Day Begin

Meeting the morning sun along with a crow that can be distinctly heard from my office. I don't know if he is celebrating the new day or hearkening me to get my butt in here and start my day.

I came home last night exhausted and ate and we settled in to watch a movie and called it a night.  I do feel an energy building slowly like a steam engine in my body and I have the knowledge that having a three day weekend is an opportunity; one I intend to use wisely.

So I start the day... Submission Saturday planning to get my submissions out and get some writing done.  I've got some older stuff I need to work on.  It was Justice Brandeis who said, "There is no great writing, only great rewriting," something I would do well to always keep in the back of my mind as a guide.

As I post this... I say, let the day begin...

The Poetry of Baseball

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops." ― A. Bartlett Giamatti

The Mag 192

Resurrection Reunion 2 - Sir Stanley Spencer

Resurrection Dance

They shake out bugs

the webs

the claustrophobia

the ground  above

has opened

dark loam scattered

among sharp green blades

They link hands

rediscovering touch

 kick up their heels

circle and shout
they are all out!



Michael A. Wells


The Mag

Finding the Poems You Never Knew You Had

Think of it as a Kick-Starter. The dynamic writing duo of Kelli Russell Agodon and Martha Silano have created a tool that that can prime the ink of any writer. The Daily Poet is chucked full of opportunity, just add yourself to the mix.

The idea for this book came about as a result of Agodon and Silano sharing writing prompts over a period of time. Recognizing the value of this practice to each of their own creative efforts they decided to produce a volume of prompts that will guide a writer through 365 days of spark that can ignite many new poems in the process.

I don’t know if it was planned this way but the timing of the release of The Daily Poet is perfect. In advance of the holidays this book is an ideal gift for the writers in your life. In addition, it is excellent fuel for anyone who might be looking for a realistic approach to a new year’s resolution to write more. With this book you can commit to daily writing and never worry as you sit down – “How am I going to start?”

Each prompt is a trigger to something inside, something waiting to be told.  I’ve reviewed the contents of this book  and tried several of the prompts myself. Any writer regardless of level of experience can find value in these exercises. While there are so many wonderful ideas among them,  a few of my favorite prompts area:

• January 12 – Letter To An Artist
• July 27 – Grateful Dead
• October 13 – Who’s Afraid of Any Author?
• December 8 – Letter to An Abstract Noun
• May 25 – Taboo You
• January 22 – Couplet Lost

Of course you’ll have to get your own copy of this prompt packed book to see for yourself the details of these fabulous exercises and no doubt you will have your own favorites.

I see this as an investment in writing exercises for many years over as you can use the same prompt at different times and find it will take you different places.  It's my recommendation that you add it to your own library and enjoy the journey.


The Daily Poet
Authors: Kelli Russell Agodon & Martha Silano
Published by: Two Sylvias Press

Available in paperback and ebook

Confession Tuesday on Wednesday

Dear Reader:

It’s been 8 days, two rejection letters, a flat tire and a novel finished reading since my last confession. I’m cranking this out at lunch time so let’s going to the confessional.

I confess I’ve over the unplanned expense of a new tire. I was over the rejection letters as soon as I read them. I don’t dwell on work rejected. I always consider that in order to have work accepted I am going to get rejections so I expect that I will be told no many times and that getting a no means there is a yes coming soon.

This time of year is odd because I enjoy the cooler weather. I don’t like extreme cold but we get some pretty nice fall days. Then there are the rainy ones like today when the coolness and the overcast skies tend to bring you down a bit. I confess days like today I want to stay home and under the covers. Of course I don’t do that but the thought is nice.

It seems like any more it’s always cold and rainy on Halloween here so if today Xeroxes itself for tomorrow it will be right in style. I confess that while I realize Halloween has become almost as much an adult holiday as it is for children, I or we’ve never every gotten into the adult dress-up party mode and so the day seems rather remote for us.We have dressed up the dogs a time or two but that’s usually been with the help of one or another of my daughters.

Speaking of help and daughter, I left work last night to go to the new home of one of my daughters to help her with the hookup of a washer. I had only been to the house twice and one of those times I did not drive and I didn’t come from downtown so I was trying to get there as direct and quickly as I could in rush hour traffic. I used voice input to put the address into my phone GPS and what should have been the number 68 was understood to be sixty or 60.  I confess I was nearly to the 60 destination before I realized it did not hear 68. I pulled over and restated the address. Again it read it as 60. I tried again annunciating v e r y   s l o w l y and it heard something else altogether that was not a number. I confess at this point I was about as angry as one can get with an inanimate object. This was disturbing to me as I realized how unbecoming it was. No one else was in the car but it did incense my own sensibilities that I was so angry over this. I finally typed it in after numerous voice attempts all failed. I though what a jerk this person is in the car…  I confess he’s not coming along next time.

The Mag 191

le Jardin, 1962, by Max Ernst 

Cartographers Woman

He is one given to meticulous detail,

appreciates boundaries, and topography.

He has an eye for cityscapes, rolling hills-

the arches and clefts.

He sees beauty in the world

where others see the mundane.

Everywhere the lines and curves 

converge for him and they come to life.

A rivers path carved out of the land

over time reveals swaying hips. 

In rolling hills he sees the waves of hair

falling over shoulders and too the fullness

of breasts and the cleavage that runs between

the rounded tops that softens out into the larger plains.

In the contours of it all he sees her face, 

her long white legs and feels her every bit alive.

He believes he is the luckiest man for he sees

his woman is everywhere. 

Michael A. Wells

The Mag

Confession Tuesday - Safe Place Edition

Dear Reader...

It's been one rejection, one home office reclamation and a week since my last confession.

This morning I stopped for a Diet Coke in route to work and when I cam back into the parking lot and entered my car I looked up and saw the Safe Place sign. I confess I don't know if these exist in other metropolitan areas but here certain public establishments are designated as such primarily for that children facing eminent harm within the community have a very public place to retreat to for safety. The idea is marvelous but that's not my point here.

I confess that as I looked at this sign it caused me to consider the reason we even need a safe places. The sad fact of the matter is that society is so saturated with things that pose significant threats to the safety of everyone.

For instance, many times I see people who are so short on patience with others in stores, while driving, at sporting events, there is a degree of hostility that is so potentially volatile that these very public places seem to breed unhealthy conduct between persons who often have little or no connection in life but decide to spew forth impatience that sparks rudeness and sooner or later people are in each others faces, flipping each other off, and now with most states having concealed carry somebody draws a gun.

Guns seem to be everywhere these days. Children get access to guns at home and tote them to school and the next thing you know we are reading in the paper that three-four or  maybe a dozen or more are dead in some school.

I confess that this sign this morning really brought to mind how many places that are not safe.  We hear of gunmen in Offices, Malls, Theaters and this says nothing of domestic violence in our homes where the perpetrator and the victim actually know each other.

I confess I think of places like Syria and Afghanistan and wonder what they would think about safe zones or houses that people could flea to to safety. Wouldn't they all be there? We aren't a nation at war with an occupying army... or are we? Have we become our own enemy?

What is safe? Where is it? I confess this is becoming  unclear. We are a terribly polarized nation. For a country that is supposed to be a shining example of freedom, so many are ready to tell everyone else what is right and what is wrong. Who we can marry, who we can worship, what personal health care their employees should have. Where we have to pray.

I confess that I have no answer to the question, how do we become a caring and unified nation again? Maybe we never were. Perhaps this nation was all smoke and mirrors. But I do know that it is too easy for people to get their hands on firearms.

I confess that next week I will still likely be wondering about the irony of an America that needs to designate safe places for children to run to. And where do the victim of domestic violence go, where to the children trapped in a room with a gunman go, or a Shopping Mall or a late night movie at a theater?

Just Saying....

Reclaiming My Office

The past few weeks I have been in the process of reclaiming my office.  This was vacated when my daughter Meghan and her husband Brandon came here post college until they could get work and save for a place of their own.

Note the San Francisco Giants banner - re-personalizing it one of the first acts that has to occur. Actually I plan for everything to be pretty functional by tonight.

Confession Tuesday - On the ledge edition

Dear Readers:

It's been a week since my last confession. I've impressed myself that I'm here on time.

This past week I stepped out on a ledge so to speak.  I've been toying with trying watercolors and acrylics. I painted in oils when I was a teenager but not since them and we are talking  oh about  #@ years.  So I've had material that I purchased about a month ago and I've wavered back and forth between starting with watercolor at one point and acrylic and finally back to watercolor. I don't really have a reason that I can put my finger one for what I decided to start with, but I'm pretty sure that the wavering was simply procrastination to stave off the fear that I had of actually putting  the brush to the paint and then onto the medium.

I confess that when I pulled out the material the week and finally started, I felt a tiny bit of success. Not so much in what I did (generally I am just working on some technique exercises) but I felt some success in meeting my fear head on. This is a good thing. No?

Yesterday, I was feeling a bit unhappy with my writing these past few days and I confess that I am wondering if it is due to divided attention. I suppose it could be, or it could be me just trying whip up another reason to engage in fear.

I confess that I ready to continue to tackle my fears this next week and not let them own me. I will continue to work on some painting and I will write and write and write through this period until I again feel that  what I'm getting on the page is worthy.

MAG 190

Dog by scavangercat808

 

 

My Parallel Universe

another world out there

framed in my view— 

a world of ruckus

fast moving cars

I can chase

only in my imagination 

a postman strolls unflinched

oblivious to my bark

 

children chasing balls

will pass and give a nod

hey you they offer

no hand to pat my head 

there are noises

I can’t even identify

people   cats   birds

smells the permeate

my universe 

I know these things exist

all beyond my reach



Michael A. Wells


The Mag





Confession Tuesday - The Naked Truth Edition

Tuesday has come... Hey, I'm on time!  It's been a long day so Let's head to the confessional.

Dear Reader:

It's been a long day because I left the office and drove to northland looking for a PetsMart before going to a poetry group meeting. Then I made a stop by my office again before returning home.

When I left work I went looking for a PetsMart that I have never been to before. The driving instructions looked easy enough but  the roads were a nightmare, with roundabouts and loops that went in circles.  It was during this state of mental confusion that I realized I had left my cell phone at the office. At this point  I am both stressed that I can't find the pet store AND that I don't have my phone.  While I don't consider myself a legitimate techie I felt like I was naked without my cell.  I considered driving back to the office but that would make me late for poetry so with a big old sigh, I moved on arriving at the group meeting  on time.

Did I put the missing phone behind me once we started? Of course not! Doing that would be a healthy rational thing to do. I confess it is time like this that my body screams stress!!!!!!!!!!

When we were finished, I hit a drive through to get  some food and then to my office. I go through security and take the elevator up and onto a pitch black floor where I play bind mans bluff all the way to the door, insert the key after several tries I'm in. I retrieve my phone that was right where I left it, tethered to my  PC to charge. With the PC off, it was not charging and by now was dead.

I could have put the phone out of my mind during the meeting. I could have even gone one home, the phone would be there awaiting me in the morning but no, I'm not that kind of person. I confess that sometimes I wish I could be that person.

I don't leave my phone behind often and this is a good thing because it truly unnerves me.  I confess that  I know it would probably be a positive thing if I left my phone behind intentionally and allowed myself to simply take a deep breath and let it roll off me.

Do you  have something you find it hard to be without?  I'd love to hear about what leave you feeling  naked.

The Mag 189

 

Photo credit crilleb50

 

 

RUMINATION

 

The ticking-

the constant ever after ticking.

I sit for this

I sit for that

it weighs one the mind

it bends at the heart

 

of it all, I see no reason

I hear no rhyme.

I do not cherish this passage

of time-

 

after which I know nothing of.

The grass it grows

and flowers and blooms

and goes to seed-

My knees ache

 

all the while I ruminate;

then conjugate things

of despair-

 

things I remember

that brought me here-

those that were painful

and some that were dear.

 

this ticking continues

I suppose that is good-

it's all quite foggy now

like I knew would.  

 

 

 

Michael A. Wells

 

 

 

 The Mag

 





Confession Tuesday - The Delayed Edition

Yes, it's Wednesday and I acknowledge, even confess if you will, that I missed the appropriate day for confession Tuesday. Let's get down to business.

Dear Reader,

It's been Two GI prep bottles, 4 glasses of water, a lot of discomfort, a day of strictly liquid diet, one upper, one lower GI scope, one government shut-down, the last episode of 24 and no acceptances and no rejections since my last confession.

Yesterday was a day if prep for a double GI scope which occurred this morning. It's probably been 10 years since I've done one of these before and I forgot how much I hate the prep for them. First there was the liquid diet. It went exceedingly well till oh about 3:30 yesterday and at that point I was craving  something to eat. I didn't know what I wanted (specifically) but I wanted something besides bullion, Gatorade, or White Grape Juice. I might add it's a real juggle to keep your blood sugar numbers steady on a liquid diet if you're diabetic.

On the way home I stopped to pick up a prescription for my wife and was introduced to rows of Halloween candy on displays. I confess I could  inhale the sweet smell of Candy Corn. I was week at my knees with want for it, but of course I was a good boy.  Throughout the evening there would be other foods to crave but today I still crave Candy Corn.

So I've moved past the prep and procedure and am getting back into the swing of things and will return to office tomorrow. I confess I've looked at my office email and can already tell I have a challenging day ahead.

This week our family  lost another dog. My son's Mastiff named Church died without any kind of warning. My son found him dead and his body was still warm. Church was one of Mike's dogs that I would dog sit from time to time when he was away. Church and Hoss were my writing buddies when I would stay over to sit. Both have passed.

I confess that  I'm still emotionally a bit tinder as a result  of the passing of our own dog Mo recently and the news of Church added to my  broken heart. We are dealing with some health issues for my Dachshund Barry  who has been diagnosed with exocrine pancreatic insufficiency and requires special enzymes added to his food in order to derive nourishment from it. He had lost  lots of weight but is coming back slowly.  It's tough when your pets are getting along in age.

The arrival of October  has been hard to believe. I confess that it  sort of sneaked in under my radar. So three fourths of the year is gone. I can honestly say that I already consider this year one of my best for writing and publishing. I believe much of the success is due to my strict adherence to Submission Saturday.
I've sent out  more material this year them any since I've been doing this and the results clearly tell me that if I get my work out there, it  will find a home.

I confess that I am not ready to put a nail in  2013 yet. I've still got nearly three months for icing on the cake.
Two poems that were recently accepted will appear in print in January so I feel like am already loading the bases for next year. Anyway, I confess that it's nice to feel like something is going right and I am ready to raise the bar for the future.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Church

Sometimes Words Just Won't Do

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous. ~Ingrid Bergman