Confession Tuesday - Tears for a Fire

Dear Reader:                                                                                                                                               
It's been one lost pound, one poetry book read, one haircut, numerous new poetry drafts & rewrite,  two yoga sessions, one massive 800-year-old Cathedral burned down and one week passed since my last confession.  Please, to the confessional we go.


Reader, yesterday, I watched like so many around the world as raging fire destroyed the bulk of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. I've never been there. I have two daughters who were fortunate enough to experience it. The Cathedral has been perhaps the world's most famous. Besides the center of Paris, it is a significant landmark for Catholicism and contained many artistic treasures. Fortunately, many of those pieces of art, as well as church icons, were removed and saved. But Notre Dame was a cultural icon as well. It has been featured in untold pieces of literature and appeared in countless movies. Additionally, it was an architectural expression of the gothic style and a tourist magnet.

But those are all nuts and bolts talk. I found myself wondering why was I genuinely not only sad but deeply emotional at seeing the flames of a structure I had never been to?  The church had been there for such a long time, I think my feeling is rooted in part to humanity that it represents, on one hand, and man's acknowledgment of a God on the other.  How many people toiled over how many years building this structure? On one hand, a structure grand in size to reach and pay homage to a higher power and on the other - a temple, a holy building that people over centuries have come to worship in. Human lives at work, at worship, a tribute to man's resourcefulness by the had of God.

I may not be expressing myself well, but I think my emotions are rooted in the alchemy of man and God. That is what I see when I see Notre Dame.  That is why I feel a sense of loss.

But reader, I have other things I must confess.  As hard as it may be to accept, I have never watched  Game of Thrones.

I confess to reading Tasty Other by Katie Manning. Poems of pregnancy, and birth, along with swollen ankles,  lactation, weird dreams, and urges.  You might think it would be a book that maybe guys might not quite get the full benefit of.  Maybe being a father of four (albeit grown) kids, who has been in the delivery room for each, or that is it well-written poetry, or more likely both, but I liked it, a lot.

I confess that I am reading several other books, yes at the same time.

It's National Poetry Month and I confess I did not write one poem this past week. (Insert bad poet award here)  I did revise and work on several drafts. (insert special dispensation from the higher poet here).

I did two yoga sessions this past week. I can do better.

I lost a pound. If you've seen it, I don't want to know.

That's all I've got this week.

Till next time--

Be joyful & be safe.

Confession Tuesday - So Many Books To Read

Dear Reader:

It's been 2,259 frequent flyer miles, one published poem, a ton of new books and literary reviews to read, one reading in Portland, an introduction to yoga and one month since my last confession.

It's National Poetry Month. Take a poetry pill for your anxiety. It's good for you and will do you no harm.

It's been a busy month since my last confession with AWP at the end of March,. I confess that seeing Portland for the first time was interesting. The scenery and topography were surprising to me. I must confess I  had visited Oregon numerous times in the past on the Oregon trail, but I don't think Portland as such existed back then. I was usually running low on supplies and had lost other people in my party to dysteria.  That's what I remember most about it.

I did not get a lot of sightseeing done. What I did see was from the apartment complex where we were staying and the view was hilly and rustic in the distance. Also, riding the Max into the city took me mostly through what seemed like older portions of the city. I could tell the city itself was pretty densely populated.

One of the nice aspects of the conference was seeing IRL some people that  I have been acquainted with from social media. Some for quite a few years but in all instances, it was exciting to meet them just the same.

Kelli Russell Agodon had been over the years one of my very favorite poets. I confess that after meeting her I worried that I had babbled on, but oh well.  Jennine Hall Gailey was another first time to meet. Michael Schmeltzer, a first. I have books by all three of these people.

Marianne Mersereau AKA Wild Honey from Seattle was there Friday and Saturday. We hung out together at an off-site reading Friday Night. We have corresponded for a number of years and I have one of her poetry books as well. We had a great time - it was an awesome reading. On Saturday, she came and supported me at my reading, on-site, for which I was very appreciative.

I got to meet Katie Manning for the first time. I already had her latest book but was able to pick up an earlier one titled "Tasty Other" which she signed.

The more you go to AWP, the more you realize just how impossible it is to meet everyone you want to. I confess that  I disappointed to miss Carolyn Forche last year in Tampa, but was able to pick up her new memoir that I am currently reading and get her to sign it.

There are always disappointments. I had hoped to meet Francesca Bell. I did get her new book but  I rushed as fast as I could from my reading Saturday to her table and evidently just missed her.

It was nice to see Martha Silano again. Always enjoy seeing Mary Biddinger. She always has book recommendations and her record for picking out books I end up liking is like about 95% - but then Akron Press always publishes really good poets.

I missed seeing  Shaindel Beers, Rachel Mennies (who was not at the event) and Jessica Smith (who did not attend also), Kaveh Akbar and Maggie Smith. So you can see, many time we are all like ships passing in the night.

Overall, Portland was a great conference. I Confess that  I loved the presence that Writer-To-Writer had.  We were all over the place. Our Director Diane Zina Pettyjohn worked very hard with her staff to get W2W the exposure it so deserves.

That's it for now. I'm sure I left out people,  This is a confession. Hopefully, I will be forgiven.

Now if you will excuse me, I have so many new books to read.

Be safe~

Still Appropriate this April

A Carryover from AWP19

I have decided to try making yoga a part of my daily routine. The Yoga session I attended and the panel on yoga and writing have together allowed me to see a clarity of focus that seems on the surface to provide both benefits to the body and writing s well.  

I got a mat on Tuesday and I started with a video session today.  Anyone that has a particular video or YouTube that they really like for Yoga, I'm open to suggestions. 

AWP 19 - Post Script

I've arrived home from Portland. AWP19 is history. It always seems like we run on pure adrenalin. It's like moving forward simply on the inertia that has been building and then, it all comes crashing down after it is over. I think this year was more emotional as it closed out than normal. I had a lot more commitments dictating my schedule and yet I feel it was one of the best.

There was a very big emphasis on the Writer to Writer program this year. We had the normal alumni reception. I spent time volunteering at the booth. We also did an on sight reading of published work by mentee alumni. Several of us talked about planning for future readings at upcoming conferences.  Then there was the Braver Together Gala - a fundraiser for W2W. I was later to it due to volunteer commitment, but it was just one more way the AWP mentorship program was putting itself out there.

One of the fun things about the conference is always the swag.  Who will have the best each year?

Always buttons. One of the most often commented on was the campaign like button for the OXFORD COMMA - 2020!  Actually, this button has been brought out in other years with only the year modified but  I got more comments about it.  Various tens, note pads, notebooks, funky sunglasses, a coffee measuring cup, Temporary Tattoos galore.


I added quite a few books to my library this year.

PR for Poets by Jeannine Hall Gailey

Elegy in the Passive Voice by Allen Braden

Twice Told by Caryl Pagel

Blood Sisters by  Jenifer DeBellis

A Year of Silence by Polly Buckingham

Gravity Assist by Martha Silano

Bright Stain by Francesca Bell

Body of Starlight by Melissa Carroll

Summer Jobs by John Stupp   --  Hawk Parable by Tyler Mills  --  Timbrel by Marianne Mersereau

What You Have Heard is True - Carolyn Forche  --  The House of My Father by Hiwot Adilow

Tasty Other by Katie Manning and a whole host of Literary Reviews & Journals.


IN REAL LIFE:

With Kelli Russell Agodon

So this year I had a chance to meet some people IRL that  I've interacted with but never met face to face.  I learned that Kelli Russell Agodon is not just an enigma.

I also met Annette Covey and Michael Schmeltzer.

I met Katie Manning for the first time and got to hear her read at an off-site reading. Martha Silano was reading there as well, though I had already met her IRL.

Marianne Mersereau  AKA Wild Honey and I met for the first time and we attended the off-site reading mentioned above.

Saturday, Marianne was kind enough to come and support me as I read with  other  Writer to Writer alumni at the
Convention site.

With Katie Manning

With Marianne Mersereau

With Martha Silano

There were some very well done panels.  I found Cheating on Poetry to be very informative. One of the presenters was Beth Ann Fennelly, whose writing I absolutely adore.

I had my first taste of yoga with Melissa Carroll. I am not especially bendy but I was able to hang in there. It felt good, after first being a bit painful. Something that  I believe I will benefit from. Both physically and in terms of meditating and freeing myself for better writing.

The most asked question from the conference, came the day I wore the shirt with the octopus riding the bike and holding an umbrella. And no, I have no idea what the significance the octopus has to Portland.

AWP UPDATE - WEDNESDAY MORNING

Good Morning!

It's Wednesday morning and I will be headed into the convention center later this morning. 
I crashed so hard last night that I forgot to take my insulin. It's no big deal because I woke up with a blood sugar of 85 this morning.

The flight was smooth - just a tiny amount of turbulence. Full plane and my wife and I could not sit together. She directed me to an open aisle seat and said she'd go back further. I guess you could say she picked out the seat for me and she did a good job.

There was a young woman in the middle seat with a small child on her lap and a carrier in the window seat for the said child.  A few pleasantries. And settled in. Somewhere over flyover country
I asked if she was from Portland. She indicated no, she was going to a conference. AWP? Yes!  That's where I am headed. (I mean as big as AWP is - where would they put another conference in the city at the same time.  I inquired as to her genre and she said poetry. This was the best random seating pick ever!  Her son was adorable and quite well behaved for his 6 months old and cutting first teeth.  After we landed I gave her my card and said, "I'm Michael." She said her name and we wished each a great conference. I 've mad a new contract in my own genre and haven't even landed in Portland. 

Above you will see a small assemblage of swag  I picked up at either Washington D.C.  or Tampa conference. Swag is one of the fun parts of the conference - to see who brings what. Today, I'm wondering, "who's got the swag? This will be the subject of a future post.

Time to go shower and dress. I will be heading up to midday. I have several hours of volunteer work and them tonight I will go to the  Braver Together Gayla with Cheryl Strayed. 

Thursday is when everyone gets crazy. 

AWP #19 - PORTLAND OREGON

PACKING TONIGHT:

There is writer's anxiety in the air.  AWP Portland is starting Wednesday. So this is the time where I try and get all my shit together.

Fortunately, I have a checklist from the incomparable Paulette Perhach who was offering services on curbing your AWP anxiety.

Okay, I'm not following it 100% - but it helps and even reminds me of some other things. One very important item not mentioned here was taking luggage with room for books on the return trip.  I have a big leather bag that I will sometimes collapse and pack into the suitcase with my clothing. Then I magically arrive with the means to make it home with my stash of books. I mean, who goes and doesn't buy books?

THINGS TO DO BEFOREHAND

 Paulette also had a list of things to do beforehand.  Some of this I have already done. I have most of my schedule outlined along with a few options.

As for the list of 5 people to meet... I've got  3 times that many. That is not counting on new people.

Three people, who are doing what I'm doing?  By that you mean last minute stressing?  Right!


THE GAME

Everyone loves a game, right?  I've seen AWP bingo cards. Not this time but I am still looking.  Here is a little ditty that Paulette gave us
for further stimulation or perhaps frustration.

These are some of the items that were designed to make our AWP experience both beneficial and fun. She stressed the importance of not trying to be too hyped up to try and do everything. You can't. She suggests a balance between getting something out of the experience but allowing yourself to have fun too.

If you are getting too tired, cut back on a panel.  Maybe go off sight and get something to eat or drink. Maybe ask a friend to join you. Or just hit one of the Dickenson Quiet rooms for 30 minuter or an hour.
Call a friend and see if you can go grab a cup of coffee together.


All right, I still have a few things yet to do including moving  laundry to the dryer,

I will be posting on her daily during the conference.  At least that is my plan. From sitting out a conference a while back I can tell you that you start looking for people to live the experience vicariously through.

Meanwhile, I am going to leave you with this thought ~ Who ill have the best SAWG?

Between Two People....

I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Confession Tuesday Rudyard Kipling Edition

Dear Reader,

Today was a busy day. Not so much that I was overwhelmed with work, though I had office work I did here at home (we are still not allowed back in our building) but around me was a  fluidity that seemed to engulf the day and made my head spin.  So, it's been 5 days since my last confession. Let's get started.

Rudyard Kipling has come to mind and I'm going to borrow the start of his poem "If." If you can keep your head when all about you the commotion is swirling atomic particles pinballing off your head than you are a better man than I. 

So to set the scene, the following converged on us all at once today.  The tree people, Comcast repair and the Sears Repairman for the gas range.  All the trucks and cars out front must have looked something like an operation 100. The tree people were here to deal with many trees damaged during the big January ice and snowstorm and take a bite out of our savings.  The Comcast people showed up to deal with the Cable lines that had been down and across our front yard since the aforementioned storm. As a testimony, I will offer this:  it took two calls to get them out here and during the second call I was told that the ticket from the first call (a month earlier) was closed out without any notion of work done. I said, no lie, they never touched them. The Sears repairman was here to deal with a gas leak in a kitchen range. (I hate gas ranges - I miss the electric range we had in our  home before here) We have been using the microwave and air fryer to coom with while awaiting this appointment. We were anxious to be able to cook something normal, but this is a confession and I need to get to the heart of it. 

I confess that in all of this pinball game going on around us, the trees were taken care of. Comcast got it right after the second call. But the stove, I confess remains a problem (insert gritting teeth here).

The serviceman arrived without a meter to check for gas. I tightened a coupling and said there you go and there he went. Still smelling gas we call it into the gas company ( they had red tagged it and left instructions on what needed to be done (which we gave the repairman) Wouldn't you know it his meter went off like a Giger counter at Chernobyl.  So, I don't have very high marks for Sears service.

On the positive side, I have gotten 30 minutes on the treadmill already today. Giants pitchers and catchers report tomorrow for spring training. I swear baseball and poetry are so alike it isn't funny. Note to self - summer writing project on this topic.  

I've read two books this week. Arab in Newsland  - by Lena Khalaf  Tuffaha ( this was a re-reading ) and How To Know The Flowers by Jessica Smith  - This book just released. I confess it feels good to read two books in a week and I'm all happy now except I am also hungry and need to go eat which brings me back to the kitchen range. Grrrrr.

All best!

Be safe and full of joy. 

Confession Thursday - Water, Water Everywhere, But Don't Drink A Drop Of It

Not a picture from the courthouse -  Just for optics.

Dear Reader:

I confess I am late with Confession Tuesday. I confess the picture on the left is just to set the tone for this post.

I confess that to find this picture I googled water break.  What I got was a number of pictures of very pregnant women. It did not occur to me that this is what would pop up. I also confess that this is not one of those pictures related to water bag breaking during pregnancy.

It's been two hellacious ice storms, some reading, some writing a lot of anxiety and even more water since my last confession.

The be more specific, on January 31st a major water break flooded both City Hall and the Jackson County Court House. I can't vouch for the status of City Hall, but the county courthouse has not opened since then and will not be open I am told till February 19th.

One report said there were 10 ft of water that flowed into the basement area damaging many of the operating systems and destroying others.  After a few days of dealing with this, the water was restored, but the pressure blew out pipes on the 7th floor or somewhere thereabouts and for some 12 hours that the building was shut down the water cascaded to floors below.  This leads to more problems and now it looks like we will be out of it till the 19th.

What does this have to do with my past week?  This is where I office. Or did. Now I am working out of my home and traveling to Independence for court hearings instead of riding the elevator to the 9th floor for court.

This has lead to numerous additional logistical problems like the creation of digital files to upload to legal file, having no office phone and having to rely on my personal cell for work calls. As in the case of this morning, I had to take my work and laptop and drive in ice covered roads to the Independence Court House for a 9AM hearing. I confess the fact that most of the city seemed to has stayed home meant the roads were not crowded as there were only a few idiots like myself on them.

One of the things that have to happen before the building is open again for business is an environmental inspection has to be conducted to make certain there is no hazardous contamination. I have been in the building with some of my coworkers to retrieve necessary items for our work. We had to wear hard hats and neon vests. I confess we were quite stylish. The neon was kind of retro.

I have to say, that I have been holding up pretty well given the various nuanced intricacies of my day that have required some degree of creativity to make things function. See, and you didn't think I would get anywhere near art with this did you.

I confess that you don't often think about just how beneficial it can be to think outside the box. I admit I haven't had many drive time sights that carried my mind off into a creative whorl whipping of lines or phrases that would later find their way on to the page. But  I have had to think about how I can do things differently to arrive at the same outcome. I have read articles about large corporations that have put a premium on creative capacity of individuals and I can see why.

One of the other pieces of all this that have hit home is how much it means to be around your co-workers until you have really limited interaction with them.

I am a person that likes my space. My personality is that of an IMFP.  I am supposed to thrive, to recharge, to flourish in solitude. I confess that even being alone with yourself or in this case, myself, can get on your nerves.

I suspect that somewhere in this is a silver lining.  Maybe a poem or two about interactions or challenges, or just damn water, water everywhere. Yes, I have thought of the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner and wondered who shot the albatross that cause the flooding in the first place.

It's early yet, tonight and I have poetry to write, and court tomorrow.

Until next time, be of good cheer and stay safe.

P.S. Don't  disturb the albatross,

Confession Tuesday - Tsundoku - Pronounced sun-do-ku / Illness or Healthy?

Dear Reader:

Federal workers have started back to work, Trump's poll numbers are in the tank, Roger Stone was taken into custody and indicted on seven counts, I'm still weighing my options on panels to attend at AWP19 and another week has passed since my last confession.

I confess that I don't speak Japanese.  I don't was that as a shortcoming.  I'd like to. And about  5 or six other languages. But the reason I mention Japanese in connection to the literal meaning of Tsundoku. I know the word is pronounced as though the T is silent and it is something like sun-do-ku.  I also know that it has to do with books. Lots of books. The ownership of perhaps more books than you can or do read. I'm a little uncertain if it is a noun or a verb but a cursory search on this point indicates it's used in both capacities.  Still, when it comes to translations, I hesitate to maintain this is correct, but I can tell you I have seen it used in both fashions.

According to Wikipedia, The term dates back to the late 1800’s – early 1900s. It combines elements of Japanese characters  for "pile up" and the character for "read"

Alfred Edward Newton, author and book collector (Not to be confused with Alfred E. Newman of Mad magazine fame)  is quoted as saying, "Even when reading is impossible, the presence of books acquired produces such an ecstasy that the buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching towards infinity ... we cherish books even if unread, their mere presence exudes comfort, their ready access reassurance."  In this context, Tsundoku appears to be a positive thing. Alternatively, I have heard it used to describe book hoarding. The latter is a less flattering description of the pastime.

Let me say that  I am guilty of having more books that I have read. Or at least completed. I have a fairly extensive personal library. I make no bones about it. 

I confess that I love the feel of books. Not so much the feel of e-readers. I love the sight of books. And yes, I love the smell of books.

Maybe one of the reasons having so many books is not a problem for me is the fact that I have so many friends that likewise have extensive book collections. It also gives me that hope of finding something in each one of them that at some point will be remarkable and worth the wait to find it.

I don't have a count of the number of books I have but three walls of my study have bookcases full. I generally will have some beside my bed on another bookcase.

I recognize the word hoarder is in fact often associated with mental illness. One of the behavioral disorders and not psychosis. I'm a writer, after all, isn't it a given that I will be a little off the wall?  

According to statistician Nassim Nicholas Taleb, unread volumes represent what he calls an "antilibrary," and he believes our antilibraries aren't signs of intellectual failings, but the opposite.

Alberto Manguel puts it very lovingly - “I have no feelings of guilt regarding the books I have not read and perhaps will never read; I know that my books have unlimited patience. They will wait for me till the end of my days.”  There may come a day in which I am no longer able to add books to my library. I hope that is not the case, But I keep reading. And yes, buying. For the time being

Until next time, be safe and of great joy. And read a little each day. Write too! 

P.S.  I'd love to know your thoughts on piles or shelves of books still waiting to be read.

Sourcing:

The Value Of Owning More Books Than You Can Read

All Those Books You Bought But Haven't Read

Why You Shouldn't Surround Yourself With More Books Than You'll Ever  Have Time To Read

Broken

Confession Tuesday - Federal Workers on My Mind

Dear Reader:

It's been two snow & ice storms, four poems submitted to one venue, plane tickets to AWP19 bought,  more presidential candidates announcing than I can remember, lots of reading and lots of writing since my last confession.

I mentioned in my last post my new leather Journal and promised a picture. It is etched with the Southern Pacific railway in the greater San Francisco area. Pretty Cool. This journal will be a companion to my other leather writing journal I have been carrying for years now.

I confess that I waited a bit too long to get plane tickets for Portland and as a result, I did not have good return trip choices. I will do better next time.

Going through another of those writing funks where I am not happy with much of what I put on a page. Of course, this is not the first time this has happened and I confess that I am well aware that it will happen again. I'm writing a lot trying to push through it. It's the only way I know to get back on track. Still, it is frustrating when this happens and you wonder if you will ever put another poem on a page that you are happy with.

Was anyone else appalled at Vice President Pence's lame, comparison of Donald Trump with Martin Luther King? Okay, I confess it was far more than lame. Honestly, it was sacrilege.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the many federal employees that are going without checks. Many, not only with no income but still driving to work every day to do the important things like keeping us safe in air travel, fighting crime, prosecuting criminals, protecting our shorelines and borders. I confess that it makes me angry that the Senate Majority Leader conflates his role with that of the Administration and will not allow for votes unless the president agrees with a particular measure. I confess I want to vote against McConnell a gazillion times. Unfortunately, he is not from my state and even one vote by me against him would be voter fraud.

Tomorrow is my weigh in at WW.  Last week I had dropped 12.4 lbs since I started. I Always feel like I am going to gain on the morning of the weigh-in. I confess that it's probably a paranoia thing more than anything else.

I am still morning the loss of Mary Oliver. Along that line,  I morbidly wonder what other poet greats we will lose this year. I saw a poet tweet from Kelli Russell Agodon this week that mentioned how it would be good to show more appreciation for our poets while they are living.  My reply tweet was, Amen!

Until next time, be safe and be of joy!

Confession Tuesday - KC Winter Storm Edition

Kansas City Snow and Ice over weekend causes damage,

Dear Reader:

It's been two bouts of viral crud, I bout of Pink Eye, one massive snowstorm, another in a long string of days thinking about those federal workers that haven't got  checks and concerned for their plight, one new exciting  journal, (birthday gift), speaking of which another birthday, a lot of writing, daily reading, a lot of hand wringing as I decide on airline & flights for AWP conference, and two weeks since my last confession.


So, just so you know it, I don't need any more health issues this year. I think I've had my quota in the first two weeks.  I confess that I am finally on the mends from my second upper respiratory viral crap and my Pink Eye that developed on Friday is now clear.  I've decided that  Grand Kids are the gift that just keeps giving. They visit often and I've had just about everything they have had except maybe diaper rash.

I got an awesome journal cover for my birthday from my wife.  She gave me an incredible leather journal many years ago that  I still carry. The new one has a San Francisco theme to it and I need to shoot a picture of it an post if in a day or two. The first one is not being retired. I confess there is room for two journals in my life.

The weekend storm wreaked havoc on the city this weekend. Lots of tree damage as they were weighted down with ice and the snow dumped on top of that. Lots of broken branches, Power lines and cable down.  The cable between our house and the pole is down in the yard. Still working, thankfully. We have not lost power, but many have. We have more winter storm headed our way and I confess I am saying prayers, crossing fingers, that hopefully, we will not lose power on the next storm through here.

The winter storm has had a captivating beauty to it in addition to the negative aspects. You probably don't need to be a poet to appreciate it, but I confess I am happy to be one just the same.

The weather is good for reading. I'm reading  Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders. It is a most interesting read. Written in kind of a monolog form with lots of snippets of researched writing surrounding the day of the death of Willie Lincoln, the son of the President. There is a bit of darkness to this story but I must say that I am enjoying the graceful way that  Saunders has chosen to communicate the spectacle of Lincoln and his dead son's post-death encounters. I confess that there is much about this book that is out of the mainstream but I love it n some quirky way.

Pricing and selecting two tickets for Portland AWP is nerve-racking. There are not enough options on Southwest which is my preferred airline so I am having to expand my search and options. I confess that I am anxious for the trip but not the planning.

That's about it for tonight. Until next time, stay safe and reads lots of poetry.

Winter Post Card

The bones of winter

weighted down

by the chill.

Beautifully brittle

even angelic

to the point of breaking

against the death-defying pull

of gravity. 

-MAW

Confession Tuesday - Year Trade-In

Dear reader:

Happy New Year from Kansas City! It's been quite a year and I feel like I'm in a dealership about to trade in 2018 and drive off the lot in a new year.

I'm off to the confessional, won't you join me?

Friends, I'd like to say that  I'm excited about the new year, but anxious may be more accurate.  As I enter the new year with my trade-in, sadly there is no warranty. What I am offered is hope and in all my years I've found that hope brings expectations and sometimes pleasant surprises and other times disappointment. This year I am choosing to tie my hope to behavior. That being said, I feel I have some stake in the outcome and that gives me a slice of control. Maybe not of the whole year but the rather hopes and dreams. This is the best any of us can do.

I confess that  2018 was defined by the frustration all around us - all of us. One of the things I am going to do in 2019 is to lessen the chaos around me that distracts and drags me down. No, I'm not turning off the news. Burying my head in the sand makes me an irresponsible citizen and voter.  But I intend to avoid the crap that none of us need. What we engage in is a choice we make. I want to make better choices.

I saw a graphic that said something like this:  We have 365 pages this year to write our new life story. That made me realize several things. One, urgency. If we don't put anything on a page, that's a lost day. I can't write today's page tomorrow. It also means I am responsible for my own story, my own year. Yes, I have to work with what the world throws at me, but that is only part of the story. What I do with my resources, time, events, people are my responsibility. Choose well. Kevin Larimer, the editor-in-chief of Poets & Writers said something in his note in the newest edition that resonated with me. He spoke of deeper gratitude for the idea of production that isn't entirely based on what is put on the page and more on how we honor those moments of living off the page.

One thing I am going to do this year is to guard and protect the time I allocate for writing and reading.

I hope that  2019 brings us lots of change. America is an idea and not just a physical country on a continent. America is based on democracy and certain rights and liberties. All of us need to hold up the vales connected to our founding documents and defend them against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Just being on this continent is not enough. We must preserve those values that were the basis of what makes us great, and remember this nation is a melting pot for the world. This is our greatest natural resource.

Wishing you all realized hope, health and love throughout the year.

A Simpler Tine

This is not intended to be political as much as it is hearkening back to a simpler time. A time when there was a simpler discourse among leaders and even though the bitter battles of politics were waged, in the end, differences aside, these were people who lead this country with an unquestionable dedication the country they believed in and wanted most of all for it to succeed.

To me, the passing of President George H.W.Bush brings with it a double sadness. First, the loss of a fellow American, whose service to this nation was long, and varied. I am also feeling a stark contrast in the present and earlier times.

To be sure, George H.W. Bush and I differed widely, both on domestic policy and foreign affairs. At the time of his election, I was serving as Chairman of the Jackson County Democratic Party (metropolitan Kansas City MO) and while the Democrats did not carry Missouri for our candidate, Jackson County did by the biggest margin for a Democrat up to that point, since John F. Kennedy.

Looking back on 41, I can say without a doubt that he believed strongly in America and his pat may have been different from what I hoped for, in the end, he cared about this nation. He cared about our allies in Europe and around the world. And his transfer of power was orderly and supportive even if he might have charted a different course. Dear Bill," George H.W. Bush scribbled Jan. 20, 1993, to the Democrat about to succeed him as president. "When I walked into this office just now I felt the same sense of wonder and respect that I felt four years ago. I know you will feel that, too. The full text of the letter can be found at the link above. This note was part of a ritual of the outgoing President leaving a note to his successor in the top left drawer of the "Resolute Desk" in the Oval Office.

Somehow, this all seems more complicated. America's reputation abroad is very low. In some places, perhaps the lowest of modern times. Our friends around the world are uncertain what we stand for. Indeed, many Americans seem to no longer embrace longstanding principals upon which this nation was founded.

When issues of colluding with foreign nations that differ with the U.S. on a number of pressing issues are front and center. When it is questionable if the President cares more about his investment opportunities then what is in the best interest of the nation, the concept of ethical government has become non-existent, can we be assured that President does, in fact, have a central dedication to American Democracy? What kind of letter might the next president find in his drawer?

Mega-Confession On Tuesday

Dear Reader:

So it's been a while since my last Confession Tuesday and I'm not waiting any longer. I confess I don't know exactly how long it's been and I could look, but I'm not going to.

Reader, here are some of the things that have happened since the last confession: Call it the rebellious streak in me, or just plain lazy, your call.

• My Giants did not make the postseason play this year.
• I had another poem published.
• I read in Liberty last month.
• I got to see one of the poets on my 2018 Poet Crush List 
• The Democrats in the house were part of a blue wave that may well give them a 40 seat gain in Congress, taking over that body as the majority. 
• The big bad boogie caravan has not yet made it to the United States yet, but Trump has called up the regular military to protect us from gangs, bad dudes, murderers, rapists,  Leprosy, Small Pox, et al.

Please, join me at the confessional:

Dear Reader, all is not well. You know it (some of you anyway) and I know it. This country is ill. I've watched as the fever rises. I've observed its unsteadiness in the world community. I've seen its values denied by some. Hate is perhaps at an all-time high. The patient seems listless and those of us with concern are gathered with Lady Liberty at her bedside.  Who will offer blood for a transfusion? Who will give comfort and support? Who will help her stand again and walk? I confess it is so easy to be hateful at these times because one hate breads another. This is a challenge we face. But I think we have to be certain that not meeting hate with more hate means we simply roll over and do nothing. The absence of hates is not weakness. It is even a greater strength than the haters have. It is a will to defend, to support our democracy and that means be there for the inclusiveness of others. It is to have very wide arms.  

Now reader, on a lighter note, I have found joy in two things. One is that I have been working on my family genealogy. Working a little several times a week I confess that I have been making great inroads. I have the Wells family no going back to a fourth great-grandfather Freemon Wells, Sr born in 1770  and his wife Martha Combs born in 1774. It's fascinating and while it is perhaps not easy to learn intimate details about these relatives, some things will emerge. I confess that I would like to learn enough about these generations of the Wells family and some of their offshoots, Sartins, Keegans, Peachers, Masons, and Combs.  Or on the maternal side of my family.

Another joy has been the use of a family seal. I confess that in some mail, notes to others I have enjoyed doing a wax seal of the envelope. It's fun I think because it personalizes it, and it's a little bit artistic. I bet there are many of you out there that have never received a wax seal stamped envelope. I know I haven't. Maybe that is another reason I so much enjoy it. I know the person on the other end is getting something in the mail that even I have never seen in my mailbox. How crazy is that?

On Veterans Day our president did not even bother to go to Arlington National Cemetary. I confess that this seems to me to be outrageous. Wouldn't you think this would as commander-in-chief be a minimal thing he could and should do?

As to writing, least I close without confession that the struggle continues. But alas, I'm not looking for sympathy, If tomorrow I were to write the greatest poem the world has ever seen, picking up my pen the following day, the struggle would continue.  I am simply happy to write something better today than yesterday.

With this, I conclude this Tuesday's Confession.  May you all be safe and remain at peace!

Laura Kasischke Returns after 12 years

This week I had an opportunity to audit a Masters class taught by Laura Kasischke at UMKC and the next night attend a reading  followed by an interview with her for New Letters on the Air,

I first met Laura 12 years ago at a reading here in Kansas City. She captivated my attention with her book Gardening in the Dark, a book I would read and reread for inspiration from time to time when I felt stalled in my creativity.

What I liked about her poetry was the way she made me believe in the magic that can be found in poetry when the poet is so inclined to treat you to writing with twists and turns and language that will not stand still. There is a tactile quality to a lot of her work. It doesn't just lay on the page.

I picked up her book The Infinitesimals to read, which makes the third book by her in my poetry library.  You can expect a forthcoming review of it before the end of the year.


Also see:  My 2018 Poets Crush Six Pack

Breaking Out of Boredom with Lola Haskins

Friday & Saturday I had the opportunity to hear poet Lola Haskins read and to teach a workshop.

It's my first exposure to Haskins though I had heard good things about her.  Her Friday night reading was remarkable in that she read everything from memory, her voice is soft and yet words chosen in her work are profound. Each and everyone with a purpose. It was especially intimate because she was so in tune with the audience and not a page in front of her.

Saturday she quickly set out to provide sound advise and tool for eradicating the dreaded boredom that creeps into our writing and takes over. To stop writing from safety and write from risk.

Haskins has over a dozen books to her credit and another on due in 2019.
You can see some of her work and books on her website lolahoskins.com

INFP Creating

Acceptance - Yeah!

Just a quick note to say I'm excited that my poem Ambiguity has been accepted for a fall publication date.  More, later.

Local Poet Sara Minges Brings Her Poetry to Print

Kansas City area poet Sara Minges brought out her new book at a well-attended reading at Prospero's Books.

Sara's book, Naked Toes, published by Chameleon Press,
is a splash of upbeat, witty, and sometimes cathartic views of the world around her, through her wide open and perceiving poet's eyes.

She mocks Barbie and Ken. She even tangles with Barbie; she will not be plastic or silent.

Her real-life role is that of Play and Happiness Expert.  No, Really. There is such a thing.

She shares exploits of "arse kickin," being handcuffed in the county jail, and her little black dress.

One gets the impression that publication of this book was perhaps a freeing experience. Like the freedom, she gets from naked toes.

My 2018 Poets Crush 6 Pack

It's an annual thing, my Poets Crush List. I'm back to let you know once again who is on my mind. Not an easy task when there are so many wonderful wordsmiths out there and I am sure there are likely many that would perhaps be on this list were they not yet on my radar.

This year's six-pack is all women. I probably read a disproportional number of women versus men poets anyway, I have had some incredibly accomplished men on my lists in the past.

For now, these are six poets that are rocking my world!

Francesca Bell caught a lot of attention with her poem I Long to Hold The Poetry Editor's Penis in My Hand.  I mean it's hard to overlook a good penis poem. Bell, however, holds a special place in this poet's heart because her talent has come without a formal writing education background. Reading her work you would never know it. She has carved out a very successful non-traditional road on her poet journey.  Her publication credits are lengthy and include River Styx, North American Review, Rattle, Prairie Schooner, and Crab Creek Review to name a few. She has had at 6 Pushcart Prize nominations and been a finalist in several notable poetry awards.

Francesca Bell

In December of 2014 Bell had five poems published in Pank that are riveting.  They touch on the delicate subject of children sexually abused by priests. These poems underscore something about Bell that  I especially appreciate in a poet, a fearlessness in writing. I want to write as fearlessly as Bell does. Who wouldn't, but it is not easy. In her poem Regrets, she talks about undressing every emotion and how silence is a too-tight dress I can't wait to escape. She is genuine. Her writing has a depth that can be peeled back like layers of an archaeological excavation, or she can turn one her humor on the page and entertain you.

Another remarkable thing about Francesca Bell is her translation. She translated the book A Love That Hovers Like a Bedeviling Mosquito by the Palestinian poet Shatha Abu Hnaish along with Noor Nader Al A'bed. This book is a collection of largely tender verse that  I often go to and reread parts of each night before I go to sleep.

Bell has a book titled Bright Stain that will be out in Spring 2019 by Red Hen Press. Just in time for AWP in Portland.


Laura Kasischke is a writer that I met as a reading in Kansas City more years ago than I can remember. What I do recall was her book Gardening in the Dark.  I fell in love with the poems in this book instantly. Hearing some in her own voice, I would reread them and her voice still resonated. I loved that the poems often would take the usual and make it quite unusual. I could not wait for more poems by this poet I had stumbled onto a reading.

Laura Kasischke

I for more of her work, another book, and what I found was White Bird in A Blizzard. It was a novel, I wasn't into reading novels at the time and thought to myself, why is she cheating on poetry?  I enjoyed the book but it wasn't poetry. I did find similarities in her language but Kasischke fell off my radar for a while and unbeknownst to me, she was busy writing. (my loss)

When her book Where Now- New and Selected Poems came out it was over 350 pages of poems. I was in heaven. I reacquainted myself with her work and was enthralled. My dog-eared copy of Gardening in the Dark could get a bit of a rest.  It was her, "...the eye maker, voice maker, the maker of stars, of space, of comic surprises."  Sometimes dreamlike, sometimes magical,

Kasischke was awarded a Pushcart Prize, The National Book Critics Circle Award in 2011 and has many other distinguished awards and has had three of her novels made into movies. Another poet rocking my world this year.

Victoria Chang

Victoria Chang has written several books that I own. Circle (her first I believe), Salvinia Molesta, The Boss and her latest Barbie Chang. I met Chang in Kansas City at a reading and have always kept my eyes out for new work from her.

I've always viewed Chang as a very cerebral poet. This especially came through in her last two books, The Boss and Barbie Chang. Her wit come through in her poems that always seem to find a way to mix seriousness with just the right quantities of humor.

Tackling issues in the workplace, and feminism in culture, she is especially skilled in form and metaphor, She has a large toolbox and plenty of language to make her writing both pleasurable and meaningful.

Barbie Change came to me as a bit of a surprise, but it shouldn't have. With The Boss, (awarded the 2014 PEN Award) I felt Chang was able to successfully carry a very concise theme through the whole book and keep her ideas fresh and meaningful.  She has nailed this with Barbie Chang as well. I feel it 's one of the best blends of popular American culture and poetry. Victoria Chang is a Rockstar Poet!



Aimee Nezhukumatathil is yet another poet I met at a reading in Kansas  City. (hint: poets out there, if you haven't read in Kansas City, you need to start planning. I had a couple of Naz's (for short) books already. Miracle Fruit and At the Drive-In Volcano. At AWP in Tampa this spring I ran into Amiee and got her to sign my copy of her news book Oceanic,  which has been all the rage.

Nezhukumatathil has a skill not everyone has. Her superpower may well be writing about the most mundane in a way you would argue with me and say, "there is nothing mundane about a C-section scar, a manicure or a valentine."

Amiee Nezhukumatathil

In person, her voice is very soft spoken but as she read her poems you will see her eyes sparkle with delight. She is a gentle person, but her poetry is built from an amazing word bank.  She's a walking encyclopedia of natural history. Plants, fish, birds, she's on a first name basis with them. That doesn't mean she will not know their scientific name. Oh no, she's on top of that too.

The beauty of Oceanic is what is found from the ocean to the sky above; life.

Amiee Nazuhukumatathi is another poet rock star!






Rachel Mennies is back. She was on my 2016 Crush List. I've had only a handful of repeaters before.  Mennies wrote the book The Glad Hand of God Points Backward.,which I read that year. While I was captivated by her book I have seen a number of her poems since then and I I view her work much the same I do Francesca Bell's. Boldly honest and cutting.

Mennies has had poems appear in the Adroit Journal, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Black Warrior Review, Colorado Review, Drunken Boat, Nashville Review, DIOLOGIST, Crazyhorse,  and Waxwing Magazine to name a few.

I met Mennies this Spring in Tampa at AWP and attended one of her panels. She impresses me as the real deal when it comes to poetry. She supports other writers - believes in a sort of literary stewardship and seems to stay abreast of things. She participated as a mentor in one of the earlier  AWP Writer to Writer sessions. A wonderful program I might add.

Mennies' writing style is the kind of forward-looking, authentic, uncut, writing I love and wish I could be turning out myself. almost everything I have seen of hers in the last 6 to 10 months has been poetry that makes me want to stand up and say, "That's what I'm talking about!"  She is once again, rocking my poetry world!


Beth Ann Fennelly is another poet who I've had the opportunity to hear read in Kansas City. She is also a repeat Crush Poet from 2012 when I did a 10 poet format. Her books Unmentionables, and Open House have been a part of my poetry collection for some time. Fennelly worked with husband tom on a novel together and I did not see any new poetry from her for a while..  Then she was named Poet Laureate for Mississippi, and also released a new book Heating & Cooling, a sort of hybrid book of micro memoirs.  Between the pages of this small book are 52 microbursts of whit and vulnerability that makes you want to both laugh and cheer at the same time.

Beth Ann Fennelly

Fennelly is a no-nonsense person that is living her writing life with husband Tom in the shadows of so many great writers that have called Mississippi their home in the past.

I was delighted to see her named poet laureate both because she has great energy and will make a good ambassador for poetry in the state, but also (and somewhat selfishly) because I am hopeful this brings back another renaissance of poetry writing for us all to enjoy.  She's a poetry rockstar as well.

Confession Tuesday - Flan Edition

Dear Reader: It's been one new riding mower, a San Francisco Giants 9-9 record, untold hours writing, slightly less reading, a nagging heel and 3 weeks since my last confession.   Come, follow me to the confessional.

Reader, I've been writing a lot, especially these past two weeks. I confess this is better than the alternative, But reading a Louise Gluck essay has taught me (and I should know this) the search for the ingredients of a poem never stop. I'm thinking today that it would wise for me to sit down and see if what I'm looking for is in any of these various pieces of writing and needs to be moved to a new environment and surrounded by other words that are more eager to play.

Being a poet is a condition. That's not an original thought, I confess that some poet has uttered those words but I don't recall who. Being a condition, if you believe that, and I do, then it is a lifelong journey or searches to find something that you don't know you are looking for. Once you are lucky enough to discover it and wrap a poem around it, the search begins anew.  It's a bit like government work. It's never finished. It just keeps going on and on and on.

Flan, are you for it or against it? I confess that I am way into it. We've talked about going to a Mexican restaurant and just ordering the flan. I haven't done this, but I have stopped on the way home to get flan carryout. I especially like the way the caramel dances around on my taste buds. It's texture custard-like, I want some right now.

As it gets later into the year there are things I am missing. No, I found my keys. I confess that I always looked forward to the iris that came up in our yard.  I also miss the geese that came in droves and would walk across the street in front of our house onto the open field These were little things that made me smile. That gave me hope. I miss those things as do I miss the house where we lived.  My wife got me a package of iris bulbs to plant - but it will be next season until I can lose myself just looking at the flowers when they come up.

June is my Poet Crush List month. I confess I've been tossing poets around in my mind and the list is not quite cemented yet, it's getting close. I always get excited about doing this. That's of course after the anxiety of making the selections when there are so many poets right now that rock!

First, it was my left knee. Then it was the tendons in the heel of my left foot. In one way or the other, I've been struggling with one or the other since back before I went to AWP.  The knee is doing better. The foot issue has improved but still far from 100%. I confess through all this my balance has sucked.

Till next time, stay safe and dance every chance you get in life.

Confession Tuesday - The original lava lamp edition

Dear Reader:

It's been an extensive lava eruption in Hawaii, a 5 & 8 Record for my  Giants (who play tonight), an improving left knee, damage to a tendon in my left heel, some writing  frustration, a feeling of being overwhelmed, more to the ongoing story of Trump Fucks Up America, one more school shooting, sporadic reading, being out of control with my eating, and two weeks since my last confession.

Reader, it's been a strange beauty/horror as I watch pictures from Hawaii. The flow of lava seems to follow the path of least resistance and therefore threaten both people and man-made property that stand in its way. This is another reminder that mother nature holds tremendous power over both beauty and destruction. I confess this is the power nature holds over us, abundant beauty and terror.  Someone must be writing about this!

I am frustrated with writing and reading. I've been doing a fair amount of writing but not so good on reading. And to the extent that I am cracking out words, I don't feel I am happy whit what I am writing. Oh, sure there are bits and pieces that and extraordinary but things are not coming together.  I had planned on entering a contest this month and had pieces that I wanted to rework or polish up for it. I became so disillusioned with myself that as the 15th deadline came and went, I did not have it in me to work anymore on these pieces and I just chucked it all in. I told myself I needed to own this decision and not look back on it with regret,  I confess to being disappointed in myself but that is not the same as regret.

Another school shooting takes innocent lives. I confess that  I have more resolve to cast votes for candidates that reflect the belief we can make a difference - and this issue is guns, not exits, not arming teachers, not allowing more guns in the open community.

There is this reading issue. I'm not reading enough. It's not from lack of books. I confess that I subscribe to the adage that writers must be constantly reading far more material than the write. I'm going to do better on this starting today!

Last but not least, I confess that I have been far too enamored with potato chips and ice cream. These two items have become a food group ion my food chain.  Comfort food?  Items that I can't break away from because of the taste. I don't know. I confess it has just been a problem this past couple of weeks.

I had the opportunity to see several women that belonged to a poetry group that has not met in some time.  It was very nice to see Joyce, Brenda, and Mary (who I haven't seen in good Lord, maybe two years?

That's it for tonight. May you breathe in the fullness of life and watch out for the lava.

Confession Tuesday - Mail Edition

Hill of Slane - County Meath, Ireland

Dear Reader:

It's been one new, rear hatch door on my Scion, another  April - Poetry month has gone by,  a mixed bag of good on writing a poem a day in April, a mixed record of 13 wins and 8 losses for my San Francisco Giants, a somewhat improved left knee, not very good news at the dentists, a cool card from a friend, and 3 weeks since my last confession. 

Let me start with the card. On the left is a photo attached to a homemade card from someone who I believe I first had contact with several years ago as a result of an April - Poetry Month Book give-a-way. This kind person sent me this card wishing me a happy Easter, it went back to her because we had moved and the post office did not forward it.  She messaged me for my new address and resent it. There was a personal note in it, she shared a story about visiting the 9-11 memorial and enclosed a SF Giants window decal. Marianne is aware of my love of baseball and all things SF Giants.

Postal mail has changed so much over the years. I remember the dreaded reach into the mailbox expecting dreaded bills and junk mail. An occasional letter but those were infrequent. If I was lucky there would be a new book I had ordered. They always give me a thrill when they arrive.

Over the years the mail has changed. Drastically so.  In fact, I rarely if ever get so much as a bill in the mail these days. I'm not complaining. Part of that is because I have almost no bills any longer, but also because account statements are usually available to me online. What I do get, is an ever-increasing amount of junk mail. This mail offers me everything from hearing aids to timeshare get-aways. There are siding offers, new windows, funeral plans, car deals, and God knows what I've pitched without delving too deeply int to specifics. Rarely do I ever receive personal mail. Again, the arrival of a new book is about as good as it gets.

I doubt that my mail situation is much different from my neighbors, you, or anyone else. I don't believe this is unique. Sadly, it is a sign of the times. I long for the days that poets & writers wrote to others about their trade. Getting this card was a pleasant deviation from the sad commentary of what the mail has become. It made my day.

I confess that I did not write 30 poem drafts in April. Sometimes it happens that I do, but sometimes I fall short. What I can say, is that I have a few drafts that are keepers and may once cleaned up a bit, will be looking for homes.  So, I won't say that the April exercise was a failure. I will say that it fell short of expectations.  Or maybe plans is a more accurate description.

I confess that  My left knee is much better, but not 100%.

I confess that today I am off from work and I have received no less than 4 solicitation calls to my cell that is on the Do-Not-Call list. This has really ticked me off. They all start with how are you today and my response is, that depends on who you are and why you are calling. I get in my curmudgeon mode. Usually, I don't answer if I don't know the number, but I was anticipating a call that would likely have been a number unknown to me.

I'm totally angry with our government and I confess that I don't see much good coming of it until we can change what we've got.

As you can see, I am a bit cranky today. Hot weather will do that to me, but so will ignorant as well as unethical public officials,  as well as unwanted calls from solicitors.

On that note, I will sign off and hope that tomorrow Michael is less cranky.

Have a safe week, everyone.

Confession Tuesday - Schizophrenia is in Full Bloom this Spring

Dear Reader:

It's been two snowfalls, an injection of cortisone directly into my left knee, 4 wins for the SF Giants and 7 losses, 14 more fucking long days of Trump, an air strike on Syrian targets, a lot of writing, and two weeks since my last confession.  Won't you follow me to the confessional? Come..


The poet community is one less. I confess I did not personally know Sam Hamil, but I knew of him. I knew some of his rugged past that probably had a lot to do with the person he was. I became acquainted with him during the Poets Against the War lead up to U.S. Bombing Iraq.  When I think of Copper Canyon Press I think of Sam. When I think of Sam, I think of Copper Canyon Press. It's that simple. Sam was all about peace. There was a quiet spirit that resided in Sam, but Sam also had the ability to unleash tremendous indignation where appropriate. One thing I don't think I ever saw in Sam was much optimism. His worldview of governments including and perhaps especially our own was highly pessimistic.  War, hate, violence, greed, corruption. These were things that kept his vision from seeing a reason for optimism. But Sam gave is poetry. His gift to us all, are words that will continue to speak to us if only we will listen.

We've had hot days & we've had cold and snowy days. We are deep in a schizophrenic springtime that has no clue what it is. I confess this is trying the patience of everyone I know locally.

What I've been thinking about lately is not the cesspool in Washington D.C. that is the Trump Administration, at least I've not been trying to, but rather poets. That would only be natural since it is April, but I'm contemplating what poets have I read and heard lately that are rocking my world? This is on my mind because June is not that far away and that is when I release my Poets Crush List. A six pack of poets that are wickedly awesome.  No hints. I couldn't if I wanted to as I am still mulling the possibilities. 

It has occurred to me that  I need to get out to more events. I confess that  I've sort of slacked off and part of that is because of this ongoing problem with my left knee, but more recently that has just been an easy excuse. I really have not been especially engaged in the community that much since the first of the year. Other than of course the time spent in Tampa for AWP.  There are some reading coming up I need to get on my calendar. I confess that I will try to step up my game and be more involved.

May each of you be touched by at least one poem this week. 

Be safe! Be at peace!