Magpie 66 / Poem: Timeline

birth

transformative

thoughts to ink

ink to page

page after page

after page

pressed

bound

catalogued

2011 © Michael A. Wells







Magpie Tales 66

Confession Tuesday - Taco Plate Edition

It's that time again.  Time to head to the confessional...   Dear Reader~  It's been one week since my last confession. One week more work then I care to recount, so much rain that I could hear my grass growing, nights with the furnace on followed by air conditioning... it's all very exasperating.

Looking back on the week I must confess that I was not one who was surprised by Donald Trump's decision not to run for President. I also confess that I'm a tiny bit disappointed but mostly because I would like for him to reach the public realization that he's not all that! If this is mean spirited then I confess to being that too.

Today my wife and I had lunch together at this little authentic Mexican restaurant. The place could politely be described as rustic. Cathy had already eaten there and had been talking it up so I decided to treat her to lunch together so I could experience it with her. I confess that I only needed three tacos but I pigged out with five. That is the actual platter above. She was right - there tacos are awesome.  I also confess that I tried two of their sauces and wished that I had brought my own. Would I be tacky next time to bring a bottle with my own taco sauce?

I confess lately I've had writing residencies on my mind.  I've though about what experiencing one would be like and yet I don't see the prospect of one anytime soon. The other thing that comes to my mind when I think about a residency is that if I was on one for any extended period of time I'd probably be a basket case being away from home. None of this even seems like it is worthy of my time to think about it but that has never stopped me from thinking about things in the past.

I'm about all confessed out for the night... here's hope that your week all that you wish it to be!

Poetry Out Loud and With Distance

 A strange alchemy happens when the poem is read aloud that allows the writer to perceive it more purely, with more distance.  ~ Beth Ann Fennelly

Magpie Tales 65 - Poem: The Origin

Where do the winds of Assisi

that sweep birds aloft,

dash butterflies gently off course

originate? Winds that kissed

the bearded face of St. Francis

that brought stillness to all creatures

around him. Their assemblage

replete with order.

Is there a beginning of such grace?

Does it start of nowhere and become?

Is it thrown swiftly underhand

by God himself?

And when it settles—   where

does it go?




2011© Michael A. Wells



Magpie Tales 65

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday brings me to the confessional once again.

Dear Reader:

It's been one office baseball day and another official work sanctioned holiday since my last confession.

No wonder last week seemed to go by fast. Admittedly the perception of how fast the week is going by can have an impact on my general disposition. It's true. For example since we had Monday off it made the weekend a three day weekend form me and this coupled with being out of the office most of the day Thursday for our office Royals baseball event really has impacted my view of both last week and the week. I confess this is however not all good, It make the week seem to go quickly which I love. It can also add pressure to get more done in less time. It's the price you pay for the added value of time away from the office.

Friday night after work I attended the second exhibition of Jennifer Rivera's work at the Apex Art Space in the Crossroads District. This is the exhibition that combined poetry and painting and included two of my own poems along with the artist's painting.  This was an art date for me. A time to spend in communion with art and just take it in. To breath and experience. The first exhibition had many of my friends in attendance and I tried to spend time with each of them. It was and awesome experience but did not give me quite the ability to experience as much of the work. I confess the attention from the first night was nice, but the more reflective nature of this second experience was nice too.  I confess that I need to experience more art dates.

May your week go fast and you find some art in the world to experience!

Hungry Baby

The hungry baby pictured to the right is a baby robin nesting upon the light fixture between our two garage doors. I've been watching the mother for over a week now but this us the first time I've seen the baby. Mom has been especially tolerant of our coming and going in the car and other movement out front - though she draws the line with the garage doors themselves.

It seems we've had a bumper crop of birds this spring. Wrens, sparrows, robins, blackbirds.  Over the winter months there were both cardinals and blue jays. I'm fascinated with birds.  While I've used them on occasion in poems I've written, I don't recall going overboard with them in my writing or particularly writing specifically about them other the the geese that frequent our neighborhood during two periods each year.

It's a warn sunny day today, I have the day off work due to the birthday of Harry S Truman. I've been tackling a number of things today which fits right along with Kelli Agodon's post today. I loved it when Kelli fields questions from her readers. This post is titled: How DO You Get So Much Done?
Check it out!

Anyway, I've got more stuff to do, just checking in for now. Likely will post again much later.

Another First Friday Opportunity - Synesthesia - Poetry and Painting Exhibit Tomorrow Night

In case you missed it last month - or just want to take it in again, tomorrow is First Friday in the crossroads art district and Jennifer Rivera's Exhibition titled Synesthesia is open at Apex Art Space -  1819 Wyandotte - Kansas City, Missouri  from 6 - 9 PM. Synesthesia combines the art of poetry and painting. Jennifer has 37 paintings on display along with the poetry which inspired her creation. Two of my poems and her paintings are among them.  Music - Painting - Poetry all make for a fun night.  Hope to see you there!

A Rilke Moment

He reproduced himself with so much humble objectivity, with the unquestioning, matter of fact interest of a dog who sees himself in a mirror and thinks: there's another dog.  ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Confession Tuesday - My Cheese edition

It’s been one office move (my wife’s), lots of road construction and an end to National Poetry Month since my last confession.

Dear Reader:

Someone has moved my cheese. There was a book (author’s name escapes me) that came out in the 90’s or maybe it was even the 80’s titled Who Moved My Cheese and it dealt with how people handle change or disruption.

During this past week my wife’s office relocated. The new location is actually closer to my own office and my initial thoughts were this is a good thing. But even changes that are good can sometimes be stressful or disrupt the normal order of things. Some people do better than others with such changes. I confess that I am not one of them. There may be a lot of disorder in my life but it’s my disorder and I am accustomed to it.

The biggest issue with the move really has more to do with orange barrels then anything else. I don’t know about other states but in Missouri orange barrels and road construction are synonymous. Rather then driving in towards town, exiting before we hit downtown and dropping my wife and the proceeding through city streets I’ve driven for years it means we take the highway all the way into downtown. This involves portions of highway that are down to two lanes. It’s slower and sometime akin to a highway parking lot. I confess that right now I see a long summer of Interstate-70 delays.

This last week has also seen a disruption in my writing. Actually two weeks now, I really need to discipline myself better. I feel right now I’m teetering on the verge of being unbalanced and falling. I confess this and my cheese being moved has gotten to me.

Magpie Tales - 64 Poem: Mother

Mountains I remember.
The rocky earth
not that distant
from our splintered cabin
but there is a dearth
of mother in my memories.

I'm told as a baby
I was held a fixture
in her arms, took from her
breast and was lavished
with attention.


A hushed woman
but one to hold
her place
in the rustic life
she was given
until she vanished
from all but the faint
recall of people.

2011 @ Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 64

**sigh**

It has occurred to me that I have a growing number of early drafts in journal and saved in various places that I need to get organized better so that I can actually go to them to work on them.

For a while I was really good about organizing these but it's gotten out of hand.

Anne Sexton from Beyond - Part Two in my Dead Poet Mentor Series

This week I've continued to be in communication with my dead poet mentor. Our communication has taken on several forms. The most common has been to speak to me through her poems. Let me explain what this has looked like. As I've read through various of Sexton's works this week some have been worthwhile reads but have not  elicited any remarkable internal reactions. On other occasions however, I've been prompted to consider fresh ideas on which to draw from in writing. I'm not talking about writing on the same subject as the poem in question, but rather drawing upon an image I'm finding within her words or seeing something that has taken me back to some experience of my own from the past that I'm seeing - unfold in some freshly developing language that I believe will carry over at some point into my writing.

Another way that Anne has been communicating with me is through her letters. Anne Sexton, like many poets of this same period was a prolific letter writer.  It's pretty easy to get inside Anne's head in these writings. I say this because these letters leave her quite vulnerable to anyone who would read them.  I've spent a good deal of time and energy studying Sylvia Plath and there is a stark difference between Sexton's letters and those in Plath's published, "Letters Home."

If one compares Sylvia's "Letters Home" and her Journals side-by-side, it becomes clear that what Sylvia was saying to her mother and what she was journaling  were often quite different. If one did not know any better you might even conclude these were not written by the same person.  Plath were out of her way to paint a picture for her mother's benefit that was about controlling the message. Her journals seem on the contrary to be a much more honest assessment of the authentic Plath.  This too is how Anne appears in her letters, authentic to a fault.  I'll have more to say about Anne's letters at a later time, but the point I am making now is they are quite revealing.

The last aspect of Anne's communication is through biographical material.  While Biographers may sometimes extrapolate on certain facts to reach differing conclusions, we can come to learns some things about a person that seem to be indisputable. When we learn some important truths about a person's life - it can help us to understand how these thing come to inform that person's writing.

So you have a bit of the "how" part of of my mentoring under a dead poet. Later in this series I'll talk more in depth about what Anne has actually been conveying to me.

 Part One - My Selection

Many Making Their Own Reality - Donald Trump Only Encourages This

If I may deviate from poetry for a moment... my apology to readers but it seems we in this country have deviated from very pressing matters to engage in at a minimum silliness and arguably a very blatant hate bating. 

Birtrhers have for half of a presidency continued to question the legitimacy of Obama's Presidency on the basis of his nationality. They have done so in spite of the existence of birth records. This craziness has continued and many prominent Republicans have encouraged it with half backed responses when questioned. "Well, I take him at his word," is only an encouragement for others to continue to question

Enter Donald Trump... his nearly daily questioning and insistence on the president producing a long form certificate brought this story into the mainstream media. His circus atmosphere came with sweeping accusations that he has had people on the ground to flush out the truth, that truth he insinuates is that the president is a fake, a fraud!

Of course Trump - who threatens that he (Trump) is the last person Obama wants to run against, has provided no evidence contrary. He has not produced these people "on the ground." Words, all words. And words don not truth make. 

Now that Obama has released the long form certificate, Trump says he is glad he got the president to do something no one else could. And he adds he hopes it is authentic, but says it's too early to say. Meanwhile Trump has started another question to Obama's integrity. He now says that he has talked to many people who have informed him that Obama was not a very good student. And Trump has many friends who should have been able to get into Harvard but didn't... so, how is it that Obama got in? This is where Trump plays the race card. After all, how could Obama possibly have been qualified for Harvard Law School? 

Lies! Trump is a blatant liar! He throws out this stuff as if fact, knowing full well that an unbelievable large segment of the population is gullible enough to believe it without any foundation of truth offered simply because they want to believe it.

Will Trump really run for president? Maybe... but I'm not counting on it. I think he has two objectives in mind. First, to boost his ego and ratings on his TV series and second, to play the bad guy... to be the hammer that pounds away at Obama to try and bring his numbers down in the poll. He never has to run, in fact will be accountable for much less if he never actually enters the race. 

He's the tough talking guy that fires people on a TV reality show. Reality show? Trumps view of reality is whatever he wants it to be. Much the same as every other birther.

Confession Tuesday

It's Tuesday again and I find myself at the virtual confessional.

Dear Reader-

It's been one mowed lawn and lots of rain since my last confession. I confess I'm fearful how high it will be by the time it is dry enough to mow.

This week I am dog sitting so it is later then normal by the time I settle in for the night.  Looking after these two dogs, it is still much quieter then at home.  I had expectations of getting a lot of writing done in the evenings this week but so far I've brought office work home with me every night. I confess that I'm conflicted by this. On one hand I want to walk way from the office clean and not have to think about it till the next day.  At the same time, getting a bit of work done in the evening makes the next day not quite so overwhelming.

While driving an listening to  NPR this week I heard a story about the two remaining (long running) soap operas coming to an end soon.  I confess I felt a bit sad and I'm not a consumer of their programing.  The thing is that recalling the women in my life, most if  not all at one time or another were dedicated watchers.  I realize this is the end of an era. Grandmothers to daughters to granddaughters passed down this practice and in many cases obsession.  In a way, soap operas were sort of the social media of yester-year. You couldn't text but many people probably spent more time then they should have watching them and then everywhere women gathered they talked about the characters like real people in their lives.

I confess that I've been living on the edge these past couple of days.  Sunday we had a flat and I put the donut (spare) on and have been driving with it since.  That of course means I'm now driving with no spare. And another confession...the other three tires are at the end of  their life as well. I've replaced all four this afternoon and I confess I will feel better driving tonight.

Lately I have been more focused while working on a manuscript.  I'm starting to see threads that pull a number of poems together and this is both scary and exciting at the same time.  I just hope this is not a case of the Monkey House as Kelli puts it.

I give you the images I know...

“I cannot promise very much.

I give you the images I know.

Lie still with me and watch.

We laugh and we touch.

I promise you love. Time will not take that away.”

 

~Anne Sexton

 

The images I know tonight...

 

• A sofa of zig-zagged pillows.
• An asphalt road that curves right - forever. 
• A bird nest driven into a tree by tornadic winds.
• The river running rampant outside its banks.
• A starless sky adrift upon ceiling.
• Tired brown eyes - like no other,

Magpie Tales - 62 - Poem: Gemini Sunrise

A Gemini sunrise
medium, split open—
the morning
bread was broken
the day began

 
 

2011 © Michael A. Wells

 
Magpie Tales 62

Cats & Writers

A catless writer is almost inconceivable. It's a perverse taste, really, since it would be easier to write with a herd of buffalo in the room than even one cat; they make nests in the notes and bite the end of the pen and walk on the typewriter keys. ~Barbara Holland


Photo: Evie -  whiteboard

Thursday Thought - Charles Simic

"Here in the United States, we speak with reverence of authentic experience. We write poems about our daddies taking us fishing and breaking our hearts by making us throw the little fish back into the river. We even tell the reader the kind of car we were driving, the year and the model, to give the impression that it’s all true. It’s because we think of ourselves as journalists of a kind. Like them, we’ll go anywhere for a story. Don’t believe a word of it. As any poet can tell you, one often sees better with eyes closed than with eyes wide open."    — Charles Simic



In the darkness of my mind
it's cobwebbed cold
strings flap in the current
that blows       grease are frozen
in flight        and still against the hope
that dawn brings a thaw
and wisps of interest that is lacking
as the stars are silent

© 2011 - Michael A. Wells



Closing your eyes... what do you see?

Dead Poem Mentor Series - Part One: My Selection

As I have mentioned before, while mentoring under another poet it was recommended to me that I select a dead poet mentor; a concept that seemed a bit odd at first but grew on me as I came to visualize the possible benefit. With so many dead poets (you know how most people think they all are dead) I had quite a field to choose from.

I’ve read (and own) an extensive collection of biographical martial, poetry and letters on Sylvia Plath a as well as Ted Hughes. I know Plath well enough already that I will sometimes read little things that I instantly know to be at odds with most biographical material and I therefore passed on Plath for the simple reason I have already become well acquainted with her and I want my dead poet mentor to be able to reveal new things to me. 

In the end, it would be Anne Sexton that I would choose for a couple of reasons but the priority in this selection was placed upon the fact that Anne was not schooled in poetry in the traditional manner. No MFA or anything close to the academic equivalent for those times. Yes she took some classes and workshops from the likes of Lowell and other well known poets but her formal education was limited. She came to poetry initially as a form of therapy but in the end her work progressed to the point that she was able to carve out an acceptance among the academics of her time. Her reputation would ultimately earn her teaching positions at several universities. In a way I view Anne Sexton as the patron saint of the “self made” poets. She was able to elicit help from others, but she found her own way to the success she achieved as an enormously significant voice among 20th century poets.

So at least for the time being, Anne Sexton is my choice for a dead poet mentor. To learn as much as I can about her, about her work, to be able discern her particular voice. To turn to her at times for inspiration and to get past writing blocks and at moments of need, to ask the question, “What would Anne do?”


And the great thing is she can’t say no to me.


* Series continues.

Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader-

It's been 6 says since my "late" non-confession confession. 

In the past week it has occurred to me that I've done very little for the sake of National Poetry Month this year.  Normally I do a very nicely printed - special edition - numbered broadside. I elected not to do it this year, or my budget sort of made that decision for me.  I decided not to do a-poem-a day either. I confess that I'm not especially disappointed on the latter but I do regret I don't have the broadsides to distribute.

I've never been a big fan of the hiaku.  I've written a few and occasionally I hear one that I like but I'm just not a big fan for the from. A poetry friend recently gave me a book entirely of baseball hiaku.  I confess that I've been enjoying these bits that seem to roll of the page like a seeing eye single that slips through the infield for a hit.  Golden little gems.

I had another rejection letter today and I confess I should be busy sending out more work tonight but I'm tired and maybe tomorrow night.  Definately tomorrow night.

That's it for this week. A little boring perhaps - but hey, I'm on time!

Have a graet week!  

Monday Morning Disclaimer

I did a bit of a makeover on Stickpoet this weekend... I'm contemplating a few other changes but they should be minimal. I hope the background is agreeable to readers. While I liked my old color scheme some had indicated the background art made it difficult to read.

My "Dead Poet Mentor" series which was to have started over the weekend has been delayed in part to get the Terresa Wellborn Interview up and to make the aesthetic changes to the blog site. Look for the Series to start on Wednesday.

Double Excitement

It's always exciting to have one of your pieces of work appear in a venue that you've never apeared in before.  It's double exciting if that Journal is Rose and Thorn! 

The Spring Issue is out and I have a poem titled House Arrest that is appearing in it.  Check out the Spring Issue by clicking here!

Today I'm in two places at once...

A Thanks to Terresa Wellborn at The Chocolate Chip Waffle for featuring me today as her visiting poet.

Terresa will actually be featured here soon as we have been working on an interview. She is an incredible writer and a source of great creative inspiration.  I often go to her site whenever I stymied in front of a page just to recall how potent we can be with words when we open ourselves up and not self censor.

WWAD?

"Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone." ~ Anne Sexton

What Would Anne Do?  -  Starting this weekend I will begin writing on my encounters with the dead poet Anne Sexton. I'm not having a seance, or toying with an Ouija board. It's nothing quite that dramatic.  But sometime back I was urged to select a dead poet mentor and Anne Sexton was the choice.  This weekend learn why I chose Anne and what I'm doing to figure out how she can help me with my poetry as I star a series of posts on What Would Anne Do?

Confession Tuesday and spending time with my dead poet mentor

I was struck today by the realization that I missed Confession Tuesday.  Not struck by  the realization - like oh yeah... I meant to do that and forgot. No I realized very late today that on man it wasn't even on my my radar! As such, I'm not even going to stumble through a late one because I really haven't thought about the past week that much. In fact if I was going to confess anything it would be that I've been living in the present so much this week that I can't really think back or ahead that much. So I guess I just confessed and I wasn't going to.

I have spent some time the past few days with my dead poet mentor. I'll have more to say about this over the weekend. So stay tuned if you want to know more about my relationship with a dead poet.

Please...

Tell me again why they don't just know to show up?

Laps around the track and Internet - or What you might have missed

With Barry aboard, I set out for the track this morning.  The weather was springlike and forecasts for a high in the 90's today are certainly believable.


We did two miles around the quarter mile loop. For Barry's little legs it must have seemed like ten.  Over night showers left standing puddles amid the grassy areas.  The wooded area seemed alive with fowl. That I could identify - both male and female robins and a male cardinal. There were many others that I was uncertain about but it was soothing to hear the chirping and feel the wind on my face. I of course will likely pay later for sinus allergies.


No breakfast before I left.  Came home and made one lonely waffle and had sugar-free Log Cabin syrup atop it.


Before I settle in for a bit of Saturday writing, I have a few items from around the Internet this week worth mentioning.  It seems to have been an especially good week in terms of blog content for many of the blogs I read routinely.  A few items I'd like to direct readers to in the event you've overlooked or otherwise missed:

• After the Artist's Way - Portrait of a Sometimes Poet - Bird Flight Studied and Simulated  I found this video fascinating!
• Advise to Young Writers - an interview with Susan Rich for The Writers Connection. Like her take on dead poet mentors.
• Jeannine Hall Gailey's Things I'd Wish I'd Known When I Was a Younger Writer.  I would add to her list, I wish I had started writing at a younger age!
• An earlier voice of Kelli Russell Agodon at Mediterranean Poetry
• Red Shoes by Terresea Wellborn.   Love this poem!
• Global Words For Change - Diane Lockward
• Bringing a little research to your poetry - Kelli Russell Agodon

Trump: I have 'real doubts' that Obama was born in the US

Guess What:   I have real doubts that Trump's hair is his birth hair.

A poem showcases itself

A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else.  A poem points to nothing but itself. - E. M. Forster

Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader: It’s been one 90 degree day, one fabulous First Friday Art exhibit, one front lawn mowed (already) and gas over three and a half bucks since my last confession.

The weather has been typical Missouri. Cold one day and hot the next and you guessed it, cold again. Mark Twain used to say if you don’t like the weather in Missouri then stick around, it will change. I confess I like the concept of changing of seasons but I really like weather that is between upper sixties to mid-seventies. This schizophrenic a/c one day and heat the next is not my favorite thing.

-0-

I confess that I was surprised how many of my friends came out to see the Jennifer Rivera Synesthesia Exhibition at the Apex Art Space on Friday. I confess that I was completely overwhelmed that my son purchased one of the two paintings that Jennifer did in response to poetry I had written. I really enjoyed seeing the art work and could easily become a First Friday Addict.

-0-

My Giants have dropped three games of a four game series to the Dodgers – winning only one game – 10 to 0 and I confess that I am disappointed but not freaking out. The beauty of baseball is that it’s a long season and you can’t let successes get you too high or losses too low. A new series starts tonight! 

-0-

My fantasy baseball team is at that stage that I am obsessing about it. I readily confess that I am aware of this – and it usually starts out that way until things shake out a bit and then I can just let it ride and do my best to manage it well.

-0-

It seems like I had something else on my mind earlier for I confess it has escaped me for the time being so I guess this confession has sputtered to its conclusion. Till next week, be safe – be happy!

Picture Perfect Night

When I left work on Friday I was greeted by a picture perfect spring afternoon. The clouds were large and surreal in the blight blue sky - against the backdrop of the the downtown skyline they looked as though they were from a Norman Rockwell painting.


I met up with other family members and headed to the Crossroads Arts District for First Friday. For those outside the metropolitan area, in Kansas City on First Friday people sort of caravan through the various different gallery showings throughout the area.


While I would love to have spent the night checking out other places as well, I was glued to the Apex Art Space where abstract artist Jennifer Rivera had 37 pieces of art that were created in response to various poems chosen by her to work with.  Two poems I had written were among those that were used to prompt her work.


The crowd was especially pulled into to Jennifer's work.  At almost any moment and any direction you could find multiple groupings of onlookers engaged in conversation over the canvasses and poems before them.  Jennifer reports that over 1200 people came through the Gallery and I have no doubt. The stream of traffic was constant.


I'm very indebted to the many of my own friends and family who came to see the work and spending time chatting with each was important to me. I do plan to make a more leisurely look at the exhibit  soon as I want to give each the same kind of attention I would normally afford a new poem I am reading.

The two that were connected to my own poems both indulged my mind in ways that was particularly drawn to.  The smaller of the two was titled titled Anchored and the texture and tone created a very earthy atmosphere that was easy to get lost in.  A central portion of the picture almost had a hologram feel to it.  In the larger painting  I was drawn to the feeling of dissonance that seemed to emulate from it. I like this because in spite of a very peaceful aspect of the poem, there really is an unresolved aspect of it and I feel this captured within this painting.

There were many pictures I really loved from their visual appeal but like I said, I really want to walk through and take in each one with the poems as well.

To the left - Dangling  which was painted in response to my poem Dangling Thoughts.














Below -  Anchored  - in response to my poem titled Dream - Part Two.                     Jennifer and I below right.
                                                                                       

I hope to get some better shots to post, but these are what I have for now.

Oh, and least I forget - great music by Karim Memi & Beau Bledsoe!

Synesthesia - Poetry and Painting Exhibit Tonight

Abstract artist JENNIFER RIVERA will be showing work starting at tonight's opening at the Apex Art Space 1819 Wyandotte - Kansas City, Missouri.   The exhibition will feature poetry inspired painting  - some 30 works will be on display along with the poetry.

An artist reception from 6-9 pm and you are welcome to view the works and enjoy the music of Karim Memi & Beau Bledsoe from 6:30-8:30.

Two of my own poetry works will be among the selected works that Jennifer used to inspire her paintings.

Hope to see you there!

A Tolstoy Moment

One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between Man and Nature

shall not be broken. ~ Leo Tolstoy

True Confession

I confess that I missed Confession Tuesday as I was doing Taxes.

On Spring

Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. ~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke

Journal Bits 2-13-11 to 3-26-11

• Sunday 2-13-11:  Reasing in Ariel's Gift there were a couple of things [that] caught my attention. One is the difference between the ordering of the poems in the origional Plath manuscript and they way they first appeared in print. The Plath order of the poems begins with Morning Song and ends with Wintering. This makes the first and the last words of the manuscript love and spring.  For all the edginess of Plath's more notorious poetry, this ordering of the manuscript  has a positive upward movement that is not generally associated with these poems the way they were ordered in its first publication.
• Saturday 2-20-11: Yesterday I has a rejection letter Rattle.
• Wednesday 2-23-11: The envelope is closed / to outside influences / sealed like the tamper proofing / of nuclear material / in an unreliable foreign nation
• Monday 2-28-11: There across my lap covering / my left hand is an RPT25 / I've come to view it as and extension / of my soul.  Feeling its leather / smelling the earthy sent / swell in my nostrils / invites memories of games played / of my son throwing heat...  my daughter who was more apt to toss lazy flys for me / to camp under like falling starts.
• Monday 3-7-11: consider - metaphor is for things you can't say... are your images ornamental or do they have broader vision?  "Poems are not read, they are reread." Terrance Hayes  [source for all this was Terrance Hayes Master Class]
• Friday 3-11-11:  His God had volume / his God embodied totality / fundamentally his God / was the word in all its plurality / all that is named and all / that remains to name / his God was living, growing / his God was language
• Sunday 3-20-11: "Each time of life has its own kind of love." ~ Leo Tolstoy
• Friday 3-25-11:  "The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?" Pablo Picasso
• Saturday 3-26-11: It's cold - I mean Burr Cold outside... I paid $3.44 for gas today - my God this is insane.
• Saturday 3-26-11: Darkness follows / the headlights eat / white hash marks.... 

* unless otherwise attributed to someone else in quotes - these are from my own writing.   2011 ©  Michael  A. Wells – all rights reserved

A Tolstoy Moment

Art is not a handicraft, it is the transmission of feeling the artist has experienced.

~ Leo Tolstoy

Why?

There were several things that I had running through my mind today that I thought when I finally got to this page I might write about but along the way a read a blog post that I on occasion gravitate to.  Upon doing so, I was reminded that this was the anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero 31 years ago. Thirty-one years? It seems like in many respects it was only yesterday.  This takes us back to what many like to think of as Morning in America a phrase coined by Ronald Reagan.  If you are one who thinks this was a simpler time, remember the turbulence in Central America. Remember Reagan Administration selling arms to Iran and the proceeds from covert arms sales to fund the Contras in Nicaragua in blatant violation of an act of Congress. Yes, and all you hear today is praise for Ronald Reagan, and Republicans push and shove each other out of the way in their quest to be the quintessential Reagan Republican. But I digress.

In her blog post Kristin Berkey-Abbott said she could think of "few other people who lived during the second half of the 20the century who more deserve sainthood" then Archbishop Romero. She argues that Romero, like Jesus must have known what wrath he was bringing down upon himself, but he did not back down. Until the end of his life, he called upon us to reform our earthly systems, systems that enrich a few on the backs of the many. Romero and Christ both show us that the forces of empire do not take kindly to being criticized.  The the death squads that roamed the country, the social-economic inequity, the human rights abuses by the government and the murder of a personal friend who dared to intercede on behalf of these issues for the people were too big a burden to shrug off and Archbishop Romero would not be the quiet complacent caretaker of the Church that the Vatican wanted him to be.  The result was essentially the same as his murdered friend. The Archbishop was gunned down as he celebrated Mass.

I think of President Obama's trip to South America and how many divides remain between the America's to this day. I think of the uprisings throughout the Middle East and the clamoring for democracy by those who know so little of it, yet do know the pain of repressive rule.  I think of people in this country who pray to God and find fault in everyone else. With all the problems in many countries, we who have so much seem to have a way of looking past the plank stuck in our own eyes and are so certain everyone else must see things as we do. 

If our theology is not a liberation theology, then why was Christ so given to the blind, the poor, the sick, the weary?  Why was he so angered by the money interests in the temple? Why did he love those who are often the least loved among us?  Why?  And why do we not?

Just wanted to point out...

I have a poem published in the new edition of RIGHT HAND POINTING Issue 40 "Harsh Mathmatics"


The Accountant

Confession Tuesday - The Tulips are up edition.

Dear Reader:


It’s been one perigee full moon, one King’s Speech, countless puppy potty training trips to the yard, too much news on the TV and much consternation over world affairs since my last confession.


I confess that I have not written well this past week. I’ve not had much success at focus which perhaps accounts for some of the problem. Then there is in yet another way too much focus. Confused yet? Let me help you.


First I’m speaking of the setting in general. Too much distraction from too many external forces tends to lead to the frustration level that hinders a writer’s effort. Distractions, interruptions, those kinds of things. Then come recognition that what you are doing sucks. So at that point you press yourself forward trying diligently to create something and this more singular focus approach is the overkill that dulls the creative process. A more relaxed approach is needed. Like a dieter who starts with some kind of cleansing phase before maintenance begins, the head needs to be clear of excessive linear thoughts. Open to more possibilities. I confess I wish I could bottle this condition and store it in the cellar like grandma did her canning to call upon later as needed.


~0~


I’ve found myself looking backwards a lot lately. I confess I’m not sure what but in doing so I catch myself longing for those days. I think if I could choose to be a certain age again It would likely fall somewhere between twenty and thirty. This whole exercise in reflection is nonsense, still I wish for those times again – maybe a part of me wants a do-over but there is something about those years that I long for as well.


~0~


Only 10 days till the Synesthesia –Art gallery showing. Yes, I confess I am still Oh so excited about it!


~0~


I noticed the Tulips have broken ground in our front yard. I confess this makes me happy!


~0~


Lately I’ve turned to twitter for breaking news stories often during the day. I confess I don’t know if this is a good thing or not.


~0~


For some reason I’ve been thinking about gardening this week. I confess I’ve no explanation. I’ve not had the best success at it in the past. I’m actually thinking more of flowers and landscaping then vegetables. Though a strawberry patch would be cool. And I could go for some watermelon.  :)


That’s it for this week… Thanks for reading and have wonderful week!

O Moon that hangs above our home

Last night hanging over our roof line and framed by wispy leafless branches I observed the perigee full Moon.  I also saw The Kings Speech. The lunar experience came on one of 174 potty training attempts with a puppy. The movie came on one attempt by Cathy and I to escape the dog madness and be alone (with a crowd of other presumably humans). Writing was impossible- I managed a blog post that must have taken me nearly three hours to write and post. Things are relatively quiet at the moment. I have several "must do things" today so when I finish this post I must start tackling them while it's possible.

I especially enjoyed the movie. It was not so much about plot as it was the characters, and they were well played. Except the portrayal of Winston Churchill by Timothy Spall fell flat; my wife's opinion which I share. Geoffrey Rush, Colin Firth, and Helena Bonham Carter... all superb! Their Academy nominations and awards were much deserved.

Censoring for the Public / Poetry & Purity

"When the writer knows pretty well that only very few volumes of his edition will be bought... he obtains a great freedom in his creative work. The writer who has in view the certainty, or at least the possibility of selling all his edition, is sometimes influenced by their future sale... almost without meaning to, almost without realizing -- there will be moments when, knowing how the public thinks and what it likes and what it will buy, he will make some little sacrifices -- he will phrase this bit differently, and leave that out."

I found the above quote via the poet Nathalie Handal, who linked an article by Christopher Merrill, Director, International Writing Program, University of Iowa. The article titled The Invisible Procession  appeared in the Huffington Post and addresses of the use of poetry when the world shifts underfoot.  Merrill seems to be asking, are these times not picture perfect for the genuineness of poetry?

I've never considered this to be a positive attribute, but there is an irony in these words. Poets like Carolyn Forche', Pablo Neruda, Nathalie Handal, Charles Simic, and Mahmoud Darwish are a few poets that come to my mind who have have in fact very effectively written poetry of witness.  In each of these cases I think there is clear evidence that their work has been void of the kind of sacrifices of genuineness that panders to what a writer thinks people what to hear. Still each achieves a following because of their art. Maybe because of the purity of their words and not through capitulation. Amen!

Today's Wisdom

A word after a word after a word is power. ~ Margaret Atwood

Poem: Our Story

Our Story

I love the sea and fear it;
the way it crashes the shoreline.
I love life with all the misfortune
because hope is a buoy
I cling to and continue to believe
that a patch of fertile land
is just over the curved possibility
and I love you because the storm
that presses upon us will grow silent
as a blank page— and we will write
our story.

2111© Michael A. Wells - All Rights Reserved

Happy St Patrick's Day

"Ireland is rich in literature that understands a soul's yearnings, and dancing that understands a happy heart."~~By Margaret Jackson.~~

No E-Books Without Authors, Atwood Reminds Us

I actually don’t disapprove of them, but I do predict that they will only ever occupy a small percentage of the market, in the same way that audio books, airport or large-print editions do. They will become one more – not the only – platform, and I’m hugely impatient for them to be normalized so that we can get back to talking about what’s in the books, rather than the formats themselves.

Thought for Troubled Times

"The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail." ~ William Faulkner

Confession Tuesday

Tuesday appears to have arrived on schedule. Okay, it actually came an hour earlier then last week (yes that is bitterness in my voice) but aside from that it has arrived as expected. One snow, too much barking, too many Aladdin and Barbie viewings, too many “ca-chings” at the gas pump, a quick but enjoyable sit down fast food meal with Cathy and another acceptance letter later.

Shall we get on with the confession?


Dear Reader:

I confess that I can be a sucker for even the simple. In a week that didn’t often allow for much time together – even a spontaneous stop at Church’s Chicken on the way home for our respective jobs a was a delightful event. Perhaps this week will be a little better.

The tragic quake and tsunami continues to consume much of my attention. I confess that I compartmentalize those two natural occurrences separate from the unfolding catastrophic nuclear disaster. The first saddens me and the second angers me because we have been hearing warnings for years now of such possibilities. Even here in our country to listen to people like Senator Lamar Alexander try to compare this to an automobile accident and say, who don’t stop driving because a person is killed in an auto accident is just plain stupid. The contamination of high levels of radiation from a meltdown will render an area uninhabitable for decades. It risks exposure to the food chain. In Japan with the concentration of population in areas like Tokyo, wind shifts could risk exposure to millions of people within hours. Sen. Alexander thinks this is like a car wreck? Really?

I confess I find leaders who cling to such notions blindly because of Industry Lobby and the trails of money they leave behind are despicable. I also confess that I did not intend to get on a rant today. **heavy sigh** Let me just conclude this segment by saying I am praying for the people of Japan – for their loss and many challenges ahead.

I didn't do much writing this past weekend and I confess that I am also behind schedule for the month on getting submissions out. I hope to do better this week and catch up with the submissions as well. But I have learned that if you stay on the ball with getting material out, even if you have a bad week things are still happening. Example yesterday I receive a rejection letter on four poems I had sent out. Likewise, over the weekend I receive another acceptance! This one to a Journal I had never submitted to.

I confess that I do enjoy it when others that I know have successes with their writing. Kelli Russell Agodon’s news yesterday that she or her book is a finalist for an award (see yesterday’s post) and another local friend Amy Leigh Davis has a book coming out and I just saw the cover art for it and I love it! The down side to all of this is I get all excited over such news and then two or three days later I think come on manuscript like I can urge it on, wish it on or something. **sigh**

Are you enjoying Daylight Savings Time yet? I confess I’m not.

I don’t mean for this all to sound like I’m on a downer… because I’m not. I’m looking forward to the Synesthesia – Art Exhibition by Jennifer Rivera (opening April 1st) that will feature abstract paintings inspired by poems, two of which (poems) are mine! I have painted when I was younger. You know when people go to a gallery and look at a painting and say, “my kid could do that” – well that would be a painting by me. That is why I don’t paint, I write. Though I have tried sketching in the past year, and someday I may try oils again, but I confess it will be just to amuse myself. But seriously, this exhibition and the two recent acceptances for journals due out in April have me in a pretty good mood. And that’s how I’d like to conclude my Tuesday Confession, on a high note.

Thanks for listening. May you be on a high this week as well… just not drug induced. ;)

Congrats!

Kelli Russell Agodon & Susan Rich are among the finalists for the ForeWord 2010 Book of the Year Award for the category of poetry.  Having read both of the books in question these are very deserving finalists. Congratulations to both!

Oh, and the books~ 

1. Letters from the Emily Dickinson Room / Agodon
2. The Alchemist's Kitchen / Rich

3.14

Snow fell last night and yet birds sang prolifically as though they were on an episode of Wild Kingdom. I wasn't a big accumulation but it's a wet snow and thus weighty.  Last night they were talking it would warm up to the 40's and we'd see some sunshine today so I guess this is just a little flirtatious burst of winter or maybe today will be a flirtatious burst of spring. Who really knows in Missouri. 

Thinking this morning about the enormity of uncertainty that people in Japan must be feeling.  So many people unaccounted for. A crisis in their power grid. Tremendous destruction and the questions about their nuclear risks/contamination etc.  They are in my prayers this morning.

Oh... and today is pi day - Happy Pi Day to all!  Pi Across America