So How Is My AWP Coming Along - You Ask?

Yes, thanks for asking.  I have a fair amount of new reading material. Later I will go into details.

You may have heard that AWP has found itself competing with Covad-19.  I began hearing some talk a week ago about the outbreak (which seemed minimal at that point in the US), but was certainly on radars.  Like most other writers I followed the latest CDC news and yes, even the largely suspect White House information.

On March 2nd it was announced that the Board would be issuing a statement on the conference.

By the 3rd, I was aware there were 11 confirmed cases somewhere in Texas.  AWP Board Members were in contact with CDC and the Mayor's office.  A The word was they were moving conference the size of AWP is certainly a financial  liability and asset at the same time.  In Portland last year I believe there were between 14,000 and 15,000. The thousands of exhibitors and time commitments by staff and even members is no small matter. Writers plan way in advance for panels, onsite and offsite readings, and there are an array of big name speakers.

The day before the event opens there is news that the Board of directors painstakingly ruled to move ahead with the event. I have to tell you, writers, AWP members, are social animals. It was suggested that while the conference was moving forward it was with the caveat to caution to curb the greeting enthusiasm.  Such recommendations as loud enthusiastic greetings, no handshakes, hugs, or customary embarrass. Blown kisses only. Thoughtful nods. Wash hands regularly. Use hand sanitizers often. Keep your hands off your face, nose, eyes, you get the drill here - curb the socialization as much as possible.

But when the word can down that the event was a go,  the board indicated that those who were coming could have their financial investment in AWP#20 applied to AWP#21 in Kansas City next year.  In addition,  this tweet was sent out by Diane Zinna one of the co-directors of the conference:

Diane Zinna  @DianeZinna. Mar3  I am broken-harted, but I resigned from AWP this morning over the decision to hold  the conference. I will always love. this community and ask that you please be kind to the board and tiny staff, people who are working so hard and believe in you.

Diane is a very special person to many of us. She created the Writer-to-Writer mentoring program. I am an alumni of the Spring 2017 Session. She has nurtured the program and all of us along the way.  This hit me very hard.

Still, I was preparing to leave at 5:45 in the morning. Besides packing, people that know me well, know that I would be would be up all night, watching Super Tuesday returns.  Those that don't know me well won't  understand this.  But I rolled out of here at 3:00 a.m. for the airport dead tired, but trying to be upbeat.

I should have known it would be a bad morning when I parked in the econo-parking and caught the tram to the terminal. I realized I had left my glasses in the car.  Inside I bought a pair of single vision. to get me through everything, checked my bag and ultimately boarded to the Conference.

I had known for days now that many of my friends were opting not to go. While waiting for my boarding I sifted through a number of Facebook and Twitter feeds.  More were deciding not to go. Oh, I had some friends already there and I rationalized this would give me an opportunity to meet new people (which is always one of my goals).  Then I saw that many of the presses were pulling out and that they were organizing an online or virtual book fair offering some of the normal conference discounts through Sunday.

I can't tell you the last time I flew and had a whole row to myself. I got my own row on the flight to Dallas where I would have a short layover and then on to San Antonio. This would have been great but the whole flight I was hot and the overhead blower was not helping.  My ears popped and I felt miserable.  My anxiety increased. Yes, I thought about. my age, and diabetes as placing me at a higher risk if I contracted Covid-19, but I hd been over that rational for days. What I was really starting to fear was getting to the conference and finding that it was a shell of what it should be.  That some of the panels that were important to me had been canceled and God knows how many more would before it was over.  On the layover I had tweeted some of my friends there already and they all had friends that opted out - pretty much said everyone was choosing to be non-judgmental. If you fell you needed to be there, it's your call. If you feel this one is not for you same. People said they would miss me but life goes on.

There was still the matter of my reading Saturday, and the hotel reservation. I called my wife and  decided to convert my return ticket and fly  home.  I made the other calls to clean up the remaining conference details and was back in Kansas City  later in the afternoon.

So my day today has been busy writing. Following details of conference. A hand full of things are being live streamed. Working on some ideas, and virtually shopping at the book fair. (which requires real money)

So here is what I have coming  as far as new reading material. Some are supposed to be here by tomorrow evening, a couple are new releases for later in the month.

1. Fieldnotes on Ordinary Love by Keith S. Wilson
2. Soft Targets by Deborah Landau
3. Father's Day by Matthew Zapruder
4. I Live in the Country and other Dirty Poems by Arielle Greenberg
5. In the Lateness of the World by Carolyn Forche
6. Like a Bird with a Thousand Wings by Melissa Studdard
7. Partial Genius - Prose Poems by Mary Biddinger
8. Slide to Unlock by Julie E. Bloemeke
9. The Long White Cloud of Unknowing by Lisa Samuels  

That's the book purchases so far.

By the way - I am especially. happy with my writing so far today.   

Will catch a livestream of the Keynote address this evening. 

The one thing you cannot replicate besides seeing friends, is the swag. I will miss the #W2W Reception and the swag. 

It's Coming - AWP #20 blogging

The annual AWP writers conference is coming at us with the speed of an asteroid. The annual event brings together writers of all genres from across the U.S. and beyond.

AWP #20 will occur in San Antonio, starting on Wednesday the 4th. I can confirm that I have already experienced a bit of the typical anxiety associated with the pilgrimage.  Each year there are generally 12,000 or more in attendance. If I recall correctly there were like 14,000 last year in Portland.

I have somewhat introvert tendencies, although at times I may break free of the chains. As long as I am able to retreat and recharge from time to time, I can deal with it.  For me the stressor are being away from home, being in the midst of a crushing mob (slight exaggeration),  meeting people I am in awe of and being fearful I appear to be a complete goofball, and meeting complete strangers and feeling. my first impression (and lasting one) totally sucked. It is my hope to report/blog from the conference maybe a couple of times a day.

WHY EVEN GO?  Good question.  I think it has to be personal for each attendee.  For some it is seeing friends that you may see only once or twice a year.  Or it could be meeting  publishers.  Crisscrossing the book fair (always enormous) in search of bargains, newly published material, author signings, or readings. Both onsite and offsite. It could be learning more about the craft at panel presentations, or ideas, learning about marketing or working with publishers, agents, etc.

This year, I am focusing  on a couple aspects of craft. Seeing some friends, attending some readings and doing a reading myself. I want to springboard from the conference into a greater energy in my writing. I have a manuscript I am trying to finish and this could help push me over the finish line.

I always make a list of those I hope to see. Some for the first time. Some friends I'd like to hang out with for a bit.  It's a challenge to see how many of these people I  can catch up with given  because everyone has their own schedule and we often become like ships passing in the night.

THE  THING THAT IS DIFFERENT THIS YEAR:

There is something  looming overhead as we head to San Antonio. So much talk of the coronavirus has added a new level of anxiety. So many questions about how ready we are for an outbreak in the U.S. have created a legitimate concern.  I am impressed with AWP leadership for tracking the CDC daily and reporting on efforts to proactively implement ways to make the conference as safe as possible.

AWP has been tweeting messages like this-  Fewer handshakes, more smiles, louder greetings, thoughtful nods! At #AWP20, we’re in close communication with the conference center & City of San Antonio, & watching news fm CDC closely. We’re increasing hand sanitizing units and will have Lysol wipes in every meeting room.

I have a reasonable level of confidence that all will go well, but this is in large part because I believe the leadership of the conference is doing what it can to protect us all.  I have way more confidence in their leadership on this than I do the federal government.


Anyway, I am busy getting ready this weekend. Hopeful San Antonio will be a great conference. I am a veteran of 4 previous conferences - this will make 5.

Looking for the Good

It's Sunday evening and there are so many things I could have done today that I didn't.  I didn't send any notes to anyone for no reason than just to say hi. I did not go outside and take a walk, looking up at the clouds or tree tops.  Other than to get out and drive to yoga, I went no place else.  I read maybe 4 or five poems this morning. I journaled around 2:30 a.m. when my mind raced, chased by anxiety throughout the house. 

A number of things have rolled through my mind throughout the day.  Why I am not writing this very moment?  What should I or could I write about. Where is my muse? Where. has she been - I've not seen her for a very long time.

Cathy came home from work today sick and she is heavy on my mind because I recently went through a stretch of being sick with some upper respiratory sickness that really kicked my butt.  I don't want her to go through the same thing.  I offered her  as my intention for my yoga practice today.  She is resting now, and that is likely what she needs most.

Earlier in the day, I was thinking. a lot about the upcoming AWP conference. I always get  anxious as it gets closer.  I will likely have bouts of anxiety daily between now and the time I leave.  Also, on my mind today. is Ash Wednesday that is approaching. What will I give up for lent? Will I give up anything?  Will I substitute some proactive thing to do instead?

It warmed up quite a bit today and that seems heavy on me in that I missed lots of opportunity to see the beauty in things.  I bet my muse was out taking in nature. I'm like, Bitch where are you? She be like, where you should be.

Two final thoughts,  I watched the Mr Rogers movie, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood this week (this may be the subject of a full post later).  There was also a few lines shared with us a Yoga tonight about leaving the small fights for small fighters. These two things are centering. They are simple but challenge me to think good thoughts, positive thoughts.

With that, I'm going to sign off a write a bit because it's barely 8:30, and because I can.

The Order of Species and Poets

One morning this week (the exact day escapes me) I walked out to my car to leave for work and there were 4 of these creatures across the road grazing. They of course stopped and gave the look that says, Why are you all up in our business? There was also a woodpecker nearby pounding on a tree. This area is loaded with various critters. More often than not, they are blended into the surroundings.  For example, both in the evening, and even early morning hours there is a whoo-hoo  whoo-hoo.  This has been going on for a couple of months and I'd love to get my eyes on the Owl, but it hasn't happened yet.


As it started getting colder I started putting out suet for the birds. They are evidently quite pleased as I have to had to replace the suet every week and a half to two weeks. It's not in the best place for me to keep a casual eye on it without my interest being compromised. I may have to move it, if I am going to get any pictures or even good observation with. the naked eye.


If we surrendered to earth’s intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees.  - Rainer Maria Rilke

Nature has a poet's patience about it. Or, at least the presence poets should ascribe to. I try, really I do, but dammit  I really want to see that owl. 

I think man's relationship with nature has been long out of tilt. We have relied so much on it, too much I believe, and now the realization that we have unknowingly for years been withdrawing  too much from the natural bank account of this planet earth. Our very survival demands we are better stewards of our planet. Our ultimate strength is rooted like the trees in the dark of earthen soil. We must be co-habitants with nature. 

I drive onto the highway and head downtown. The skyline like a prism reflecting the sunlight rising in the east. Glass panels, concrete, metal girders, reflective spires all twinkling ahead. Yes, man's marvels. But, somewhere there is a strip mine. Somewhere, countless acres of forest have fallen in the name of progress. Paved streets and parking lots.

Gone are the Reunion Ibis, the the Black-Backed Bittern, Reunion Night-Heron and a slew of other bird species. In the past half-century there has been a 29% decline in birds in the U.S. and Candida. Once we lose birds, insects and other animals are impacted. So too is plant life. Some of this is not doubt related to climate change and migration disruption. 

Poets could do a whole anthology of elegies to birds who are no longer with us. 

Patiently, I await the sight of the owl that serenades me morning and night.   

2020 BLUEPRINT

“Remove ‘shoulds’ from your vocabulary this year. Start your journey of self-love now.” —Kelly Martin

2019 and the whole decade that it represents is finished. What is left is smoldering memories. Some of them are good but most represent average or worse elements of my life. 

Mid-day today I attended a workshop at Core Balance Yoga that was nearly mat to mat in the studio. There were 23 of us and the instructor and we might have scrunched one more yogi in a cover but that would be it. There was a glitch in the software that allowed more than the limit to sign up on line. It happened so it must have meant to be. We made it work. 

The session was a 90 minute combination of yoga, guided meditation and journaling exercises designed to lead each of us to what would become a personal guiding word for 2020. The logic was that we can easily shed a resolution by screwing up and then feeling we have failed move on leaving it behind.

Out of my session, there were a series of words that flowed out of my journaling and meditation and the more meaningful ones came down to fulfillment, focus, vision, and authentic.  I have not as of this moment centered in on one word. Kristin, our instructor said some people actually use a couple or three words to carry with them throughout the year. I would like to minimize this as much as possible. 

Even prior to today's event, I have been thinking about the symbolic nature of 2020 and perfect vision. Working through dreams and hopes, I've been pointed to manuscript completion. Challenges to improve / perfect yoga practice. Achieve publication from a list of tougher reputation Journals or Reviews.

I already know that I have improve my own self worth, be guided by gratitude, and embody love of self and others. The past couple of years, truth has come to mean anything and nothing. In 2020, truth has to mean more to me. It has to reflect in me the embodiment of authenticity.  Being real, honest and genuine. 

So, I don't really have a resolution of sorts, but I see developing a roadmap or blueprint of something akin to a guiding light. I'm ready for a year that glows with joy, peace, art, fulfillment, and support of others. 

2020 A Year of Perfect Vision

As a poet I know said upon learning I got a Mac Book, "Michael, you've come to the dark side." Said poet has for years been singing her praise/love for her Mac Book. I finally decided to find out what I've been missing.

The learning curve has not been so bad up to this point. I've not pulled any hair out of my head as of yet. 

It's silver in color but I have and orange shell case for it  (It's a SF Giants thing) and I love how thin and light weight it is. Right now I am downloading word to it. I was not that impressed with Pages and I don't much care for having to convert to doc file which of course I need for writing.

The year is fleeting  like the air from a ballon with a pinhole. I like the thought of taking the Mac Book into the new year. Over the weekend I was thinking about the coming year. All the projects that I want to do, to start or the ones I need to push to the finish line. I realized that 2020 needs to stand for perfect vision. What I want, what I need to do, requires me to see 2020. This is a year in which my vision needs to lead me. The irony of having just come off of cataract surgery this fall was perhaps what brought 2020 into my mind as being a year for perfect vision. This time next year I hope to have a lot proof to show for the combination of vision and work.

Confession Tuesday - Dark Pillows - Impeachment - Yoga - and Poetry drafts.

Dear Friend: 
It is again that time. Fess up time.  The time to take account of the good the bad and the ugly.  Won't you follow me to the confessional? 

It has been five straight days of yoga, a gazillion eye drops, more impeachment hearings than I can recall the number - maybe 5?  And it has been 1 week since my last confession. 

Tonight as I left work downtown the sky was buffeted with dark pillows. It was a sight most surreal. 

I wanted to just stand and look at it but I had not been feeling well all day, was already leaving late and I the desire to get home won out. 

It's my 5th straight day of yoga tonight,  even as I don't feel well.  It's the coughy - runny stuff. I confess that I would like to stay home tomorrow but we will see how I am in the morning. I have started some Clairton - D so maybe that will help. The coughing has brought on chest pain. 

I was telling someone the other day that it did not know if yoga was making me a better writer, but it sure was making me a less stressed writer.  I am hoping that over time that will translate into better writing. I confess that hope is a good thing. 

This past week I have been spotty as far as writing. No, I confess I have not written daily. This is the ugly truth. I say that because I know all too well how important it is to do so. I do have a new draft that I will need to work on more, so this has not been a total loss of a week. 

My cataract surgery is, of course, all history now. Still pushing the eyedrops as I have been instructed to do. My eyes will still need some correction adjustment but they will take a look next month to see what my vision is like. My vision is brighter. I suspect I will still be wearing glasses but they will be different from what I am wearing presently.  I have noticed that I have not been squinting so much on the computer at work. 

I am looking forward to a Mala making class this weekend.  I also got out my manuscript draft tonight and left it on my desk to start toying with this week so I guess I have some things to look forward to. 

Until next time - be safe and live poetically!

Confession Tuesday: My 2019 Poet Crush Six Pack

For several years I have selected a number of poets that are currently rocking my world. Over the years it was capped at 6 and became known as my  Poet Crush Six Pack. This year I have struggled, in that there are so many really good poets out there that are writing remarkable material and speaks to me on some level.

My familiarity with them has come from reading their work or meeting them and hearing them read in person or both. [A little secret - many of my books have been bought at readings or ordered just afterward]. It is always extra special when I discover that their poetry not only rocks, but they are great literary stewards that frequently are giving back to the greater writer community. Several of these are such stewards. So, I give you my 2019 Poet Crush List. I confess these poets are rocking my world. 

Katie Manning is the author of a poetry collection titled, The Gospel of the Bleeding Woman which I read this year and found intriguing. Her writing reminded me a bit of Magdalene by Marie Howe another awesome poet who was selected for my Crush list in the past.

 In Portland for AWP19, I met Katie and picked up a copy of another of her books, Tasty Other. The second book was very different. This book was entertaining. It made me laugh and had just a touch of dark humor. Loved the poem Belly of the Whale, and the attempt to make Jack Nicholson look less creepy. My favorite was a series of 10 vignettes of a statue of Mother Mary on Johnson street that comes to life in various situations. I love that Mother Mary was humanized in these poems. Katie addressed experiences of pregnancy, motherhood, and parenting with humor and realism. 

On a final note, Katie is the Founder & Editor-In-Chief of Whale Road Review.  Additionally, she records short video reviews of other people's work, and that is so cool.  Follow Katie here.

Jennifer Moore is the author of The Veronica Maneuver, which I have read and What the Spirit Said, which is on my list buy and read soon.

I discovered Jennifer at AWP19. I have no idea if she was in attendance, but Mary Biddinger and Akron University Press were. I always, always check out Akron Press because they have consistently feature outstanding poetry. Mary made a couple of book recommendations and that's how this all happened.  

The Veronica Maneuver opens with, In the year of our Lord the Electric Chair and it was there she had my full attention. Jennifer wrote with a splash of mystery, which I loved. The poems were transformative. There was calm, there was chaos, there were Christ's face and a bullfight. It was marvelous how it all came together. I look forward with much anticipation of reading more of Jennifer's work. You can follow Jennifer here.

Melissa Studdard's I Ate The Cosmos for Breakfast has made me hungry for more of her work. She quotes Wallace Stevens, "The poet is the priest if the invisible." Studdard is that High Priestess.  Whether it is revealing the invisible to the naked eye or her copious attention to detail, to texture, and to metaphor. There is a touch of eroticism, feminine mystique, that is divine. Each time I read one of these poems I feel like I've learned something else, or else I come away with a curiosity for questions I never before entertained.

Melissa has been involved in VIDA - Women in Literary Arts. Melissa is rocking the poetry Cosmos! You can follow her here

Jericho Brown in person is one thing. Charming, 
outlandishly funny and occasionally
sarcastic. At least that has been my experience seeing him at multiple AWP conferences.    In his word, I see a much different man. Yes, there is sarcasm, but with a whole different intonation. He has championed a darker but no less real side of life. Cynical, yes, but squarely attuned to the unmistakable divide that festers in America.

Jericho's Louisiana roots never quite seem to be far away. His book, The New Testament kept me asking myself over and over sometimes uncomfortable questions. It also left me wondering how to get this book into more widely read. He has a newer book out that I have not read. but have added to my ever-growing wish list.  You can find more on Jerico here.

Anne Barnsgrover wrote in her debut book, with simply smashing imagery. "I feel like a wasps nest nailed to a door, all the stingers dried to rose thorns."  This was another Mary (knows how to pick them) Biddinger find. The book, Brazen Creature.

Loving, losing,  and all that happens in-between in these poems. Each is bold and unapologetic. Each is brazen. It could be in some ways a feminist manifesto. 

Metaphor is not lost on the revenge of the brown recluse. "Our hearts are nothing//but lies and lilac bruises. Old friend, we both want/each other dead tonight." This collection of poems was like an emotional workout. I want more of her work to read!

More on Anne Barnsgrover found here.





Martha Silano is one of what I refer to as the magical Northwest Poets. There are a number of them in the greater Seattle area that are incredible beyond what any single geographical are should be entitled to. Could it be the water?   She has five collections of published poetry. I have four of them. I've met her at AWP two or three conferences and my knowledge of her and her work go back a number of years.

In Martha's most recent book, Gravity Assist, published by Saturnalia Books,  she toys with all things relative to our orbit. The seen and unseen. Forces and things nearest to us and the way out. Jealous of that star in Orion that isn't~  stare without resentment.  

The collection moves quickly and touches on Gerbils in space and wings that were not given. Of course, there is your favorite and mine, Autocorrect! Someone, I don't recall who said there was math in poetry. Yes, it's there. Oh, the things Martha orbits around in this book. She tries to outdo gravity, but the words fall to the page anyway. 

But alas, the first book I read of Martha's remains my favorite - Little House of the Immaculate Conception. That's why I keep buying her books and continue to be amazed. 

More on Martha Silano found here. 


There, you have it, my Six Pack of Poet Crushes for 2019 

Confession Tuesday - Between Two Eyes Edition

Dear Reader: 

Let's go to the confessional.  It's been one cataract eye surgery,  California burning, the smell of impeachment appears stronger, the World Series is split  3-2 in favor of Astros, Sylvia Plath would have turned 87 if she were still alive, and it has been two weeks since my last confession. 

My left eye surgery is done and I've given up a week of yoga at Doctor's request. I thought it would be longer from what other people have told me but I confess a week is still too long.  I am slated to go to Core Balance for a session tomorrow evening.  However, I will be doing the right eye on November 5th, so I will be off the mat another week then. 

I confess I don't presently see any major changes in my left eyesight. I'm just saying. 

Writing lots the past three days. I believe there are some possibilities from this rough work. I have hope.  Plath reminds me of the importance of writing daily. I confess, she still has power from the grave. 

One of the most exciting things that have happened since my last confession is that  I have made contact with a cousin on my father's side of the family.  This is significant because of the lack of Wells family members I have contact with. Grandparents are deceased. My father and uncles on his side of the family are all passed on.  So I was able to make contact with a first cousin, once removed. This is pretty cool as she has helped me with some family history questions.  I am hoping at some point to be able to write an oral history of the Wells family. I confess that I have been feeling like a dying breed. 

When I am able to restart yoga after my next eye surgery, It is my intent to do a stint of 30 consecutive days of yoga. 

Impeachment of the President is seeming like closer to reality. I don't know if the Senate can muster the guts to do the right thing, but once the case is more in the forefront of the American people, we will see if the Senators will scramble like roaches for the molding. 

I read a poem the other days that was not totally new to me, but I think after reading it I felt a newness to it. I realized it closes with a line I had heard as a quote from W.S.Merwin in the past.  The poem is titled, Berryman: 

Berryman

BY W. S. MERWIN

I will tell you what he told me

in the years just after the war

as we then called

the second world war

don't lose your arrogance yet he said

you can do that when you're older

lose it too soon and you may

merely replace it with vanity

just one time he suggested

changing the usual order

of the same words in a line of verse

why point out a thing twice

he suggested I pray to the Muse

get down on my knees and pray

right there in the corner and he

said he meant it literally

it was in the days before the beard

and the drink but he was deep

in tides of his own through which he sailed

chin sideways and head tilted like a tacking sloop

he was far older than the dates allowed for

much older than I was he was in his thirties

he snapped down his nose with an accent

I think he had affected in England

as for publishing he advised me

to paper my wall with rejection slips

his lips and the bones of his long fingers trembled

with the vehemence of his views about poetry

he said the great presence

that permitted everything and transmuted it

in poetry was passion

passion was genius and he praised movement and invention

I had hardly begun to read

I asked how can you ever be sure

that what you write is really

any good at all and he said you can't

you can't you can never be sure

you die without knowing

whether anything you wrote was any good

if you have to be sure don't write

This was shared this month by the Poetry Foundation at this site.

And last but not least, I watched Meg Eden in the Poets in Pajamas

reading series. She was reading poems from her new book coming

out from Press 53, titled Drowning in the Floating World.   The

collection of poems is themed to the nuclear power plant disaster in

Japan. I recommend checking it out. 

Until next confession, stay safe - Peace!

Michael Allyn Wells

Confession Tuesday - Searching for Authenticity

Dear Reader:

It has been so long since I have indulged in a Confession Tuesday that I am not even going to count up the weeks, it would only inflame any anxiety that may be lurking about.

Here is what's been going on:

• I have been trying my best to live in the present. Yoga is teaching me that now is more significant than yesterday. That tomorrow is no guarantee and the breathes we take now are where we live, the present!  This is not easy for me, because I believe history is significant to today and any future we have.  That planning is okay, even advisable. Still, our emphasis on life should be the present. That is where we are. I have been introduced to Dr. Brene' Brown who stresses living authentically - letting go of what people think of you. I will confess that I struggle with this at times.  She also is a strong believer in cultivating self-compassion. My instructors at yoga are reminding me that I tend to be hard on myself so I guess I am failing there. I've pretty much been this way about my writing over the years so I suppose this is pretty well ingrained in me by now. 
• The things that I care about, family, friends, our pets (which are really family too), Things that sustain me and allow me to feel, to see, to touch the present - music, art, poetry  Here I seem to be on track with what Dr. Brown teaches. because she emphasizes laughter, song, dance, creativity & play. 
• The scariest part of Dr. Brown's recommendation is embracing vulnerability.  If this is how we become authentically ourselves, then I confess it is frightening. I can handle it in small doses, but the larger the chance of feeling like I am making a fool of myself, the harder it is. 
• Another writer friend of mine was asking me why with all the writing I have been doing, that I have no book. I've toyed with a manuscript - I've even entered one, maybe two manuscript contests. So I have gone back and looked at a lot of my poems - especially those that have been published. and I put them together struggling to see clearly a theme. Feeling that perhaps I am too close to this, I sent her a file with the collection I pulled together. We had spoken about this in advance and I already knew that she was willing to look at it. This was a big step - exposing the very vulnerabilities that have been holding me back. I confess that now, I am happy I did this. Going back over all these years of work reminded me, I got Poetry!. 
• I have a stressor that I am struggling with that is coming to a head next week. Cataract surgery.  I confess that one of the reasons I am dreading this is the time that it will take away from me my yoga routine. Currently, it includes two formal weekly studio sessions, augmented by what I do at home.  I'm told I will need to be away from it for two to three weeks after surgery. We are doing one eye at a time so that will stretch it out. I imagine my writing will take a tole during part of this time as well. 

Today I am thinking about joy and the role it plays in the day to dryness of life.  Can I find joy in embracing my vulnerability?   Let me close by saying I am thankful for another poet who has encouraged me,  even over fear and so today  In the present, I am claiming joy!

Until next time, may you thrive daily in the present!

Honoring the Light and Love in You

My Summer Witting Playlist on Spotify

Rx for Writing:

Coffee or Wine (depending on the time of day)  

&

Michael's Summer 2019 Writing Playliat

Assimilation of Yoga , Writing, and Life in General

I am trying to achieve some assimilation of yoga into my daily living, and into my writing. 

Yoga takes discipline for starters. This is something that would likely help across many areas of my life. 

The byproduct contributing to a calming or peaceful presence that allows for a more meditative state of being; where yesterday and tomorrow are pushed aside to make way for being in the present. That is where we can find ourselves, stripped down of the weighted anxieties that we tend to carry. 

I'm not able to say that I have my meditative practice perfect. Still, I believe that I am becoming more receptive that inner silence and where that might lead. It seems kind of like nibbling on a cracker when wine tasting. A way to clear the pallet for the next new taste.  In this way, I can be receptive to the experience of new ways of bringing fresh material to the page. 

Confession Tuesday - Poem finds Home Edition

Dear Reader: 

It's Tuesday once again. A weekly occurrence and while my Confession should be weekly as well, I sometimes fail. Hey, I'm human!

On the way into the office this morning I was looking at the sky and reflected on the color variations and thought I should write something about this. But I didn't.  I'm not sure that I had anything remarkable to say about it, but I really didn't try and that is precisely what I want to talk about. 

In recent times I have thought about writing, mine at that of others. I've also thought about those who don't as a rule sit and commit ink to a page. I think sometime in the recent past (though I can't pinpoint exactly when or what caused me to think about this, it occurred to me that everyone has a story to tell. I've heard that said before but I never really thought it was meant for me. I always think when you are telling a story that you are making something up - something fictional or you are relating an actual event that you are sharing with others. I don't know why, but I never really accepted the fact that poets had stories to tell. 

I think of world travelers with unique experiences having stories to tell. Or, persons who have survived some illness or torture, or with some remarkable life discovery having a story to tell. I think it all boils down to is this a story worthy of being heard? Sometimes I think about memoirs that I have read that had very dysfunctional people in them. I think about what caused me to consider such a story worthy of being told, of being read.  I don't think we always can know what another will be interested in, but if we write, and write with a creative flair that makes what we say interesting.  Sylvia Plath used to say that everything was writable. 

What I wonder today, is what stories that are waiting to be told at our southern border? What stories need to be told? Who will step up and fill this need? I confess that I think about this and it troubles me.  [long pause for reflection here]

On another note, One of my orphan poems went out into the world this spring and has found a home. I pleased to share with you this poem that just came out yesterday in the Remington Revied - Summer Edition.  

Keep[ing It] Going

I throw another log on the fire.

I have one left that I am saving—

Alone; I keep practicing.

One day I may get it.

Tolstoy said The strongest of

all warriors are these two—

Time and Patience.

I know if you were here

you would applaud, well done!

And maybe I am better,

but you were kind

and always saw something

fly outside the picture frame.

You had the eyes—

they were plugged into your heart,

a strong heart. A sharing heart

that sometimes would pump

for both of us.

This log has been burning all night

now. It shows no sign of extinguishing

itself. My practice continues.

May you all have a safe and enjoyable week ahead. 

Chinese PEN Center reprints Tiananmen Mother

The Independent Chinese PEN Center republished my poem Tiananmen Mother on its site. I feel honored.

A Little Slice of Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader: 

I know it's Thursday and I have missed the customary Tuesday Concession.  (hanging  head low)  I hope you will accept this late and tiny slice of my recent life.  It's been a week and 3 days since my last confession. 

It's also been one debate of 10 Democratic candidates for president last night  (another one with 10 more will be held tonight. It's been a Father's day since my last confession, and it has been a jumbling of many books that I am reading at the same time. (That's how everyone reads, right?) 

Summer is officially here and we have colorful plants blooming to show for it.  Cathy gets truly excited with plants in summer. I think she gets that from her grandmother - who was affectionately known as granny. When I leave in the morning or when I come home in the evening I am greeted by colorful unfolding nature before my eyes. I confess I love this. I love knowing that she loves gardening with flowers too.  By the way, we have tomatoes on our tomato plants (our one cash crop). 

I had a rejection of poems in a contest since my last confession.  I don't often dwell on rejections. I am sure this was a form one too. But it did happen to be the same place that  I once received a form rejection with a handwritten note that said,  "you were close."  But, I digress, the part of this rejection that caught my fancy was as follows... "We strongly believe that a poem's value is not determined by its publication, or by the selection or non-selection by a limited group of readers. The editors urge you to wholeheartedly reject this rejection, and send these poems out again and write some new poems, and sent them out too."  I confess this made me smile. 

Watching the Democratic candidates debate on the first night, left me feeling a little empty. Of what I saw I was most impressed with Senator Tulsi Gabbard, Julian Castro, and Cory Booker. Elizabeth Warren after a strong initial exchange sort of went to sleep. What she said was pretty much her normal stump speech I've heard countless times. The only negative was that she took a position on health care that would be unattainable as the way the laws are written now, hospitals would have to close their doors over authorized payment amounts. I suspect she would ultimately look for a fix for this but it did seem like a big gaff.  No one shined. I expect the bar will be higher tonight. 

Another confession, I am working on my annual Poet Crush list. (link to last year) It should be out this month, but I have read so much this past year, I am having to do a fair amount of weighing those being considered to keep it at 6. Hopefully sometime in July? Maybe, Hopefully. 

That's it for today~

Be safe and of much joy!

Confession Tuesday - One Less Orphan Poem.

Dear Reader: It's been a relatively normal week of weather since my last confession Little bit of rain but mostly nice sunny and comfortable temperatures. So close to normal it's almost scary.

I received good news on Monday. Another orphan poem of mine found a home. Picked up by Remington Review. This is the third time they have taken one of my submissions. It almost feels like family. I lover their format. They always put together a nice issue. So the new poem will be in the Summer edition.

I confess that I feel like I need to be a bit of a hustler. Hurry and get more work submitted. I try to balance writing time with administrative things, like submissions, notes, and reading. I need to learn to transition from one to the other better. It's like yoga for me as a newbie-  Learning the individual poses is one thing. It's another whole challenge to learn to smoothly flow from one position into another and another. I confess that when I have an acceptance or rejection I always feel the need to immediately make sure I have more work out there. There was a time when I had a lot of poems floating around between various venues but as I work harder to satisfy myself with each poem, the time spent increasing  my vault (so to speak) of material that is available means I am adding to it at a slower pace and therefore feel the pressure to increase material available for submission. 

The news of a hung jury in the Scott Warren case was reported yesterday. I confess that while it was a hung jury 8 to 4 for acquittal, It is a reassuring statement on humanity. 

That's it for this week's confession. Be safe and live on the edge. 

I Interrupt Confession Tuesday to Remember Tiananmen Square 30 Years Ago

Thirty years ago a young man stood in defiance of Chinese tanks at Tiananmen Squair. The photo of this single person in street clothing and clutching two shopping bags, standing face to face with a tank, is widely recognized and associated with the student freedom movement. The man and the massive machines of war catapulted itself to become an icon seen around the world.   It was June 5th, 1989 when "Tank Man" was photographed in the aftermath of a deadly government crackdown to clear Tiananmen of young protesters. 

At home, however, China was attempted to scrub this image from the public minds. They once used it to demonstrate their need to use force, but the picture hardly served that purpose well.  Generations of Chinese youth have been largely sheltered from this picture and the deadly government actions 30 years ago. 



In 2005 I wrote a poem the poem that follows -  Tiananmen Mother  - dedicating it to a Communist Party official that broke with the government and tried to warn the protesters of the coming violence. As has been the case with others, he was ostracized.  Beyond that, I believe the poem speaks for itself. 

Tiananmen Mother

for Zhao Ziyang

The Beijing breeze whispers
mournful strophes.
Tears like the mountain rains
follow slopes

to tributaries until they become one
with the rippling waters of the Yangtze.

I am a Tiananmen mother.
My eyes have swelled
with this sadness before.
The wetness follows a path
well rehearsed.

My nights are immense.
I am but a lone bare branch
in a cold, dark world.

They replicate
that June night
etched in my soul
over and over.

My son stood
in the Square
armed only
with a vision
and they came-
The People's Army.

My son stood
in Tiananmen Square,
amid a sea of other
sons and daughters
and they came-

armored tanks
clanking along the streets into Tiananmen
driven by fear, ordered by paranoia.

Our sons and daughters
toppled to the earth
at their hands.
Crimson crawling into every crevice
Of these ancient Chinese streets
A stain still upon us today.

I cannot count the nights
I've wept for my son since.
Today, I weep for another.

There is no official news
but the Beijing breeze whispers again.
This time for the death of the old man.
There are guards of fear
stationed outside my door.
The lump in my throat is big,
I cannot begin to swallow,
that is how I know the truth.

Guilt always gnawing at my heart.
I could not help my son that June night.
Again as I am helpless.

I want to pay my respects
to the old man who stood up
for my son and others
massacred in Tiananmen,
but the thugs watch
my every move.

I am a Tiananmen mother.
It is my duty to weep
for the lost ones.

© 2005 Michael A. Wells