Hot August Nights in July

A few clouds move in and attempt to provide cover from the sun but there are too few and the so has such a bold August like attitude for early July that they are no match. Presently it 96.  A slight improvement over the 100+ degree days we've had.

There is a chance according to the local forecast for some scattered showers after midnight.

The weather patterns these past ten days or so (one forgets how many triple digit days we've had when the brain is this hot this long) have seemed to me  oddly different from most summer heat waves I recall in that the number of states hit all at the same time is insane.  It concerns me that with the relatively quick shrinkage of the polar ice cap the past couple of years and some of the significant weather changes on some of the other continents, that we are in fact seeing some significant global warming.  Yes, I know that one heat wave a global warming does not make. There are however a growing number of factors that are troubling even if they are not conclusive. 

BIKE KC

The Bike Share has come to downtown Kansas City. A program patterned after a concept used in several European cities where people can rent a bike at lone local and drop it off at another station. This location is just behind where I work and as you can see from this picture during the lunch hour that a number of the units are in use. They were refilling the station as I arrived at work, so I know these were checked out since just before 8 AM. They are kind of ugly bikes to be honest but they have 3 speeds and yes that is a basket up front. But these are not sporting bikes, they are intended for functionality so I guess their looks are okay.

It's a really cool concept and I do intend to take one of my two helmets to work and leave it there. If the weather drops below the 3 digit range anytime soon, I'll probably take a spin over a lunch hour.

Kansas City will be getting a lot of national attention during the All-Star break and I'm glad they got these up and running last week.

So if you encountered one of these stations on a visit to Kansas City would you take advantage of the to hop around town?

Sweet Land of Liberty

Hope everyone is having a joyous 4th of July.  Because of the string of extra dry weather we've been having I know some communities have banned or at least discouraged fireworks. Whatever you are doing today, grilling, at the lake, baseball game, looking for 4th of July sales, visiting family of just hanging out at home. Be safe and be mindful of how precious our freedom is.

HAPPY 4TH of JULY AMERICA

And Happy Birthday to my daughter Shannon Wells!  :)

Confession Tuesday - 100's Edition

Tuesday again my friend- temperatures again headed to 100+ for (I can't remember how many) days now. But you're here for the confession, so let's go to the box.

Dear Reader,

It's been 5 days since my last confession (because I was late last week) and I have a few things I can think of to acknowledge here.

First, I confess that I lost my keys last night at a restaurant.  That pretty much was the nail that sealed my evening as non-productive as well as stressful. I confess that I am still hopeful they will turn up.

I confess that this three digit heat need to leave. Right now!  Heat makes Michael cranky. Ask my family or co-workers.

I confess I need the 4th of July to come so that I have a day to rejuvenate. Hopefully.

I confess that I'm having some range of mobility issues with my left shoulder. Not quite as saver as when I had a rotator cuff injury in my opposit shoulder several years back, but similar. I can't recall any singular thing I might have done to elicit the pain. I confess I'm unsure if this is old-age vs. injury.

I confess some days I want to take my laptop to a coffee house and write without interruption and lose all concept of time.

My Web Page Is Down AGAIN! #@&%!

My regular web site michaelawells.com is down again. The first part of the month I discovered it offline and as best I can tell it was down for at least parts of three days. Looking at my stat counter it's had no hits for 12 days so it seems like it's been this way a while. It's being hosted by MyDomain.com. I've been with them for several years now and my renewal is up in July so I'm thinking a change is in order.  I've never moved a site before. Any recommendations as to where to go? How much of a pain is it to move a domain name?

Two Judges Say Go Deep - Don't Play It Safe

I read two blog posts today that touched on poetry contests and I noted a similar view help by two people who have been contest judges and I thought they were worth mentioning.

I have note entered a lot of contests - I maybe average one to two entries a year so I'm one one who has a lot of personal experience with the contest circuit.

One of the two pieces that I'm talking about was an interview in Ploughshares of Mary Biddinger by Victoria Chang. I've met Victoria at a reading in Kansas City I believe in 2008. I've read two of her books Circle and Silivinia Molesta. I enjoyed both but was much impressed by Circle as a first book.  Biddinger I've never met or heard read but I have her book Saint Monica which I was so in love with I I can hardly contain myself in wait for her next book O Holy Insurgency. She is the queen of Catholic poetic culture.

The second piece that I read was a blog post by Susan Rich. I've never met Susan either but have her book The Alchemist's Kitchen. One thing that I've appreciated about Susan is that she is a poet who not only has a strong social consciousness but will on occasion allow it the gently permeate her work.

So insight of interest did I glean from these two sources? Rich pointed out, "...all the poems that were sent on to me were quite competent. However, competent is not enough to win a contest. The poems that startled me, that made me want to read then and re-read them, the poems that could not be nailed to a chair in terms of their meaning."  Her advise specifically was to, "Choose to send your poems that take risks."


Mary Biddinger said  she loves  "Poems with teeth... poems that aren't afraid to use their teeth." For Biddinger, she would rather see "a manuscript that makes a few missteps, but dose so with bravery, versus a highly-polished competent, yet safe collection."


If you take to heart what these two poet/judges have to say on the subject, it comes down to being willing to take the risk.  I suppose this really should come as no surprise because it really is the poem that stands up and dares to be different that gets noticed. I can recall shuffling through pages of work in the past and  pulling from it the pieces that seemed the most polished. I will try to not make that mistake again.

Today In the News Headlines

The court ruling fails to ease doubts
firefighters search door to door for bodies

Consumer confidence declined in June
S & P 500 caps best June since 1999

Tatum puts critics under their spell
Cruse-Holmes divorce

China's first female astronaut returns
earth adds leap second

Hillary Clinton attacking
man plagued by porn-induced headaches

Confession Tuesday on Thursday

Dear Reader:

It's Thursday -  9 days since my last confession. Nine mostly hot days. Today stretches the concept of hot as it reaches 105. I am not amused.

• I confess that I missed confession Tuesday and hope that by making it up on another "T" day I can be afforded special dispensation.
• I confess that special dispensation seems redundant to me. If you receive dispensation isn't it speal in itself?
• I confess that I am sipping on a diet cream soda and fruit punch flavored Vodka. (I didn't use much Shannon) My defense is rooted in triple digit heat.
• I confess that any time the San Francisco Giants beat the Dodgers is a good day but when they beat the Dodgers and move into a tie for first place is crazy assed exciting!
• I confess that I had a bad case of methodical today. I suppose this was not really a bad thing because I had a lot of really detail orientated stuff to deal with at the office today. 
• I confess the heat was so bad today that spending the night at work didn't seem all that bad... but alas I did come home.
• I confess that I was pleasantly surprised by the Supreme Court decision on the Affordable Health Care Act.
• I confess that even with the horrible heat, most of the people that I have come in contact with the past couple of days have not been grouchy but rather very respectful and courteous.
• I confess that I need to write yet tonight, therefor I'm confessed out for this week. 

Hope you all stay safe and cool where-ever you are!

Sunday Reflection

It's only June and the a/c struggles - what is July and August going to be like?  I'm just saying...

Did some office work I carted home today.  Also some writing as well as other tasks I had on my calendar for today.  Read a little of the poet Marilyn Kallett. The poet Joy Harjo calls Kallet a romantic sensualist.  I've heard Kallett reading live at Rochkurst University a few years ago.  Returning to her work was an experience as she is a bit of a break from much of what I've been reading lately.  Bring some variety into your reading experience can be a good thing. By the way, I'm reading How To Get Heat Without Fire.




Thought for the day:   In the United States, though power corrupts, the expectation of power paralyzes. - John Kenneth Galbraith

MAG 123: ONE MAN'S RELIGION

Photo of Orson Welles provided by Tess Kincaid at THE MAG

Along an egregious path 

beset with noisy sociopathic notions,

came a man with the raspberry blue sugar sticky 

of cotton-candy smeared about his face.

One hand groping his wants

the other loaded with Jelly Bellies—

practicing  his holy belief of entitlement.

© 2012 Michael A. Wells

The Mag 123

Friday Night Jazz

Really fun night out with wife at The Phoenix Jazz Club - with Lonnie McFadden on the horn and Tap Dancing!  Great Anniversary Celebration. As we walked out of the building the weather was surprisingly comfortable.  Bright sliver of a crescent moon hung in the sky. Could not have orchestrated it any better.  


On another front, rejection letter from Indiana Review arrived. Second this week.  Week ago I did have a piece accepted though. According to to my Duotrope Submission Tracker my acceptance ratio is 7.9% which it tells me is above the average rate. There is that to be thankful for. 


Had a breakthrough idea related to manuscript this week and for that I'm pleased. All together it's been a good week. Very busy at the office but I can usually count on that. 

Celebrating 38 Years of Marriage

Before I retire for the night I feel compelled to say a few words about the number thirty-eight. Poets normally deal with words but at the moment it's the number thirty-eight that pretty much sums it up.

It was thirty-eight years ago on the 22nd of June, that my wife Cathy and I were married.  We dated for three years prior so really our lives have been entwined for essentially 4 decades. No one lives 4 decades without trials and tribulations and we have had ours; but I cannot think of having gone through my life without the partner I've been privileged to have by my side.

Through numerous endeavors over these years I have been blessed by her support, her faith in me, and her gentle encouragement at times when I have needed it the most.  I'm not an easy person (I'm a poet for God's sake) at times. She has tolerated the many flavors of idiosyncrasy that I tend to embrace. Overlooking faults and bring out and celebrating the best in me at times when I have trouble seeing the best myself.

~0~

Love you Cath!!  Looking back all these years later I might have done a lot of things with my life different, but not you. I would do this all over. Here's to a long life together!



Living in the Moment

We steal if we touch tomorrow. It is God's.

 ~ Henry Ward Beecher

Confession Tuesday - Bacon Edition

Another week has come and gone.  It's been one week since since my last confession. Let's get started.


Dear Reader:

I confess I love bacon. I mean who doesn't? But tonight I made a run out to get a Bacon Sundae.  I know it wasn't something that I really needed but it did hit the spot. I actually would like to hit it again with another one right now but I will restrain myself and not go out again. I have to say the combination of bacon, caramel, chocolate and vanilla ice cream is Walla!

I confess that I was really tired today at work and every time I turned around someone else was yawning. This only accentuated the draggy feeling. It was kinda weird because I slept really well last night.  Maybe I'd be better off if didn't sleep so well tonight.

If you read yesterday's post you know of my writing related fear that I've been struggling through. I confess that I wished the post has not sparked some discussion but last night I pulled out some old journals of mine and found some earlier stuff that was worth reworking. So this has given me a  momentary relief from stressing.

I confess that I'm glad that some of the shows my wife and I like to watch have started back up.  Rizzoli & Isles, Franklin & Bash and Suits are three of our must see shows. 

I confess it's 11 PM and time for me to hit the sack. Have a great week!

The Fear of Irrelevance

I've realized I have a new fear...   It happens between the pen and the page. It's not really the fear of writing as much as it is the fear that what I write becomes too predictable. Stale I suppose would be another word. 


You see I've reached that point where I realize that even that killer piece I wrote last October that has been published has to stand alone and what I write today and tomorrow has to be fresh and unique. Even if writing in a themed manuscript (especially if) you have to create from a fresh perspective. 


I guess what this really comes down to is the fear that my writing will become irrelevant. We all have to have fresh ideas or at least fresh approaches. It's one thing for a poet to find his or her voice, but that voice must be able to find a range of fresh ideas. 


So in those few moments when you first pick up your pen, what do you do to take your mind to some new direction?  Any tricks that you have to keeping your work fresh? I'd love to hear from others struggling with this and especially those who have fought this demon and are now secure in their writing as the pen and the paper first meet.

Father's Day

I had an opportunity to spend some time over lunch with three of my four children. Only Cathy Ann was not present as she is the only one out side the metropolitan area these days. Additionally my wife, daughter-in-law Claudia and future son-in-law Brandon were along. I just a while ago got off the phone from Cathy Ann and it was good to chat with her if she could not be here in person. 

I've thought about my own father from time to time today. Someone I really didn't know.  Only meeting him as an adult on I believe 4 occasions. He is deceased now.  Still, I think about him and the rest of my paternal side of the family that is principally gone save perhaps some cousins that I really don't know. I don't know any way to explain it other then this void that has plagued my life and I suppose always will.

I looked through a few poems to find one befitting of sharing on Father's Day and I chose the following:

To pull the metal splinter from my palm
my father recited a story in a low voice.
I watched his lovely face and not the blade.
Before the story ended, he’d removed
the iron sliver I thought I’d die from.
I can’t remember the tale,
but hear his voice still, a well
of dark water, a prayer.
And I recall his hands,
two measures of tenderness
he laid against my face

– Li-Young Lee, 'The Gift'

MAG 122 ~ Likeness

Puddle, 1952, M. C. Escher

Likeness

A puddle collective on the ground.

Mirror images mired in detail

reflective of all that's around.

Tracks and footprints form the frame

to cup and stabilize the fallen rain

of splendor in a muddy marsh.

Michael A. Wells


Mag 122

In Passing

We ate muffins out of papers;
spoke of logistics only in passing.

You bathed in tepid water.
The phone rang twice - I did not get up.

In the morning you left early-
left a note by the coffee maker

expressing your gratitude for the time
that filled the void.

I held the note for a while...
quite a while I think
but I don't really know time.

Friday Comes Early

This has been a crazy intense week at work and every since Tuesday my mind has been processing over and over one question, "Is it Friday yet?" When the end of the work day arrived tonight you know what? It was Friday. Well, it really is only Thursday still but since I'm at my max for vacation time or it gets truncated, I scheduled a day off for tomorrow. So Thursday is Friday in a manner of speaking. 


After work I drove home, picket up Meghan (daughter) and drove back into the city to a gallery showing of work by the Kansas City area artist Jennifer Rivera.  It has occurred to me that walking around taking in artwork after a long day or series of days is a great way to unwind. A glass of wine and paintings and it takes the handcuffs off your mind. I would say in this case it was therapeutic. 


Jennifer's artwork is extraordinary with textures and colors that can be nova star brilliant or the darkened minor keys in a  Shostakovitch symphony and the many points in-between. There were three pieces on display that I especially enjoyed. 

Celebrity Autobiography - Kristen Wiig reads Suzanne Somers

Can you guess

Which 10 Artists Investigated By The FBI? 

Huffington Post Slideshow

Confession Tuesday - Wizard edition

Dear Reader:

It's been three poetry drafts, one finished poem, a car breakdown and a car repair since my last confession


This weekend our Mercury Sable broke down on the was home from run out to fetch carryout dinner. I was able to get the car pushed out of the way of traffic and with the help of a very nice man in a pickup with his teenage sons. They then kindly offered a ride home- a distance of maybe three miles. Fortunately I was able to return to the car later and it started and was able to safely return it to the home.

I confess that my future son-in-law who is a wizard with all things mechanical especially cars determined that the problem was the alternator and the next day replaced it with one from a junk yard - thus saving us boo-coup bucks. Okay, he's not like a Harry Potter type wizard but just a cool.

I confess that that this weekend I received word a poem I wrote maybe four years ago found a home. Of course I'm always delighted to get an acceptance letter but this one was special because this is a poem that came so easily and was one I always believed in. It was one of those rare instances that the poem almost writes itself.

I confess that I found myself looking at an e-reader tonight when we were out shopping. I also confess that I like real books better. I do have Kindle and Nook on my PC and while I have used them I have been a very slow accept them. Poetry books I want to hold in my hand.

It's late and I still need to write yet tonight so until next week - be safe...

Mag 121: What I Count On

Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean François de Le Motte

The notes, lists, inventory of thought and miscellaneous,
my refuge for information is all there. I've come to depend
on a singular place; vertical and standing put.  


My mind tends to meander more horizontally
these days and often drifts off path. 


When I need to refer to something important
it is that assemblage of what-not 
stapled to the weathered wall that I count on. 


Michael A. Wells


Mag 121

Saturday in the Park… I think it was the 4th of July

 

No it’s not yet July but for some reason this song has been looping through my mind this morning. Thank you Chicago! I suppose it could be worse, after all I am a big fan of Chicago but I generally don’t like anything to loop through my mind. Certainly that is the case this morning. We have an Ozone alert today so it’s probably not a great day to be at the park anyway.

Instead of the looping, let me turn to my journal and look for a few tid bits from this past week and maybe I can get this out of my head.

• “The writer, when he is also an artist, is someone who admits what others don’t dare reveal.” - Elia Kazan
• “All my life famous people have been dying from a distance/up ahead just over the curvature I see the tops of them on approach/the distance is narrowing”
• “a fan chops the humid air/throwing it back in my face…
• “This free market thing/how is it working for you?/Mowing the lawn is getting pricey”

Technorati Tags: journal bits

The Right Person–The Right Time

                                                                                                

The announcement of the newest poet laureate offers some contrast to many of the past. Natasha Trethewey is by no means the first woman laureate but she joins a rather short list women who have held the post. It is equally noteworthy to me that she is quite young as poet laureates go. At 46 she is actually older then I had thought her to be, still many laureates enter the office in their 70’s or 80’s.

Yet another significant aspect of Tretheway’s selection is the regional flavor her work brings. She is from the South and much of her work is laced in history and people and times in the South. Merwin and Hall for example were poets that had geographical ties but there work could probably be described as more universal.
While universality in poetry is a good thing, some times there are stories to be told that are more parochial. That need to be part of the national dialogue. That without, we as a nation are not whole.Natasha Trethewey is a powerful voice that has been informed by a unique life story.

I’ve read some of her work over the past couple of years and heard much more in her own voice on NPR and the Poetry Hour on PBS. From some of the talk on Facebook I gather she has flown below the radar of more poetry readers then I would have guessed. That being the case, her selection is even more significant because she a voice that is worthy of being heard.


Technorati Tags: Natasha Trethewey,poet laureate

Confession Tuesday

Dear Readers:

It’s been another one other one of them… a week.  So here I am before you to offer my week’s confession. To the box….

I confess that this has been an emotional week. My son’s bulldog Hoss was put down. My daughter’s pet rat Mason was put down.  I confess that I don’t like the words put down. The phrase seems quite ugly to me. 

I confess that I went to see Dark Shadows and found it in some respects charming. The music from the 60’s-70’s period was a walk down memory lane that I really enjoyed.

I confess that I’ve grown tired this week of some people that allow their actions to be governed by egos larger then buildings. Adult bullies are no different than young bullies. In fact, there is something really lacking in them, that they reach adult age and have such an inversion of maturity and ego.

I confess that I returned two library books late.  I always want to sneak in and just leave them when they are late which is so silly because I’m still going to pay a fine for them being overdue. I just feel kind of dirty when I’m at that counter handing late books over to the librarian.

I confess that I’ve had several ideas swimming around in my head that want to be poems and that I really need to honor their wish and try to get them down on paper. 

That’s about it for this week…. till next time, enjoy each day ahead!

For Hoss

If you want to know why a tear is salty—

It‘s because salt is a mineral 

adding weight so tears run down our face

keeping us grounded in times of sorrow.

It’s because salt is a preservative,

a constant reminder what each day

together meant us.

In times of loss, however brave we seem,

the spring within us flows

because it comes from  having known.

Follow the bouncing ball...

I did...  I followed it to Target tonight.  This is one of two large balls outside one of the entrances of the Target Store. I chose to post the picture because this is a part of exercising my creative muscles.  Let me explain...

I've come to the realization that my creativity has suffered in recent weeks. Hell it's probably been stalled for over a month if truth be known and I decided it was up to me to do something about it. Of course this requires me to chart some kind of proactive plan.

In the car this morning I asked myself what I needed to improve my writing - I mean besides actually taking the time to write.  If my self-evaluation of my past few weeks has been that my poetry has been too little and less then satisfying, then perhaps my problem is like artistic atrophy. I think it is safe to say that I do feel my poetic strengths have been weakened and are feeling pretty light weight. So I decided I needed to start a creative exercise program.

My drive into the city then became a workout. I decided to pay special attention to things I encountered on the drive and think about them not simply what these things were - but how I saw them. The TV tower was not just a tall steel structure but as it poked through the clouds it was a portal into the heavens. So throughout the day, I've tried to be mindful of things around me and my exercise of the cerebral muscles was to see them in a new light.

My initial day of flexing my imagination went well. But like any exercise program the results don't come overnight. I'm going to follow the bouncing ball each day and see where the poetry takes me. Wish me luck!

LOOKING AT ONE POET'S PROCESS

How I Create: Q&A with Poet & Writer Samantha Reynolds

Only a year ago, in 2011, Reynolds pledged to write one poem a day to try to “be present” and not miss the fleeting first year of her son’s life. Now she wouldn’t know how to stop even if she wanted to. Bentlily has sparked a movement of people around the world to slow down and savor their lives.  Read Interview here.

Confession Tuesday - What day is it anyway edition?

Dear Reader:

It has been 2 weeks since my last confession. What a week anyway? I confess that my days have seemed like they have all run together for weeks now. Most of the time I'm scratching my head and wondering exactly what day it is.

Three day weekends usually make Tuesday like Monday to the Max. After work I've been busy with a lot of physical lifting and moving at home and this has created a viscous cycle. Tired when I get up -more tired when I get home and so on.

I confess that I am delinquent with library books.  I expect to be pulled over by the Library Police. I picture a female officer with her hair pulled back and thin black wire glasses.  She clears her throat and asks to see my library card. She reminds me I have books overdue and says she will issue me a warning but next time she will be forced to suspend my license.

I confess that my writing has been neglected recently. Less frequency. Out of my routine. It really has been hard amid all these run-together-days to tap into creativity. I know that I have the ability to tackle this problem and no one else. I need to make an effort to create some real defining differences to each day. Give myself a chance to be more observant - maybe get out for a short walk each day and try to stretch my mind to unlock the creativity that has been hold up and missing in my days.

Oh, and note to self... Trash pickup is a day late this week. Thursday - note to self. Trash to curb in two days.  

Bouncing Thoughts

Just finished mowing the front lawn. Came in with a diet coke - sweating and here I sit at my laptop and realizing it's just past 1PM I suddenly feel a large portion of my weekend  has slipped by with nothing to show for it (except a challenge to the people on the north and south side of us to take their lawn down a notch.

I've read several things this week (mostly on blogs) that have caused me food for thought.  Here are some of the items bouncing off my cerebral walls.

1. The first has nothing to do with blogs or reading...I simply  missed confessing on Confession Tuesday. The fact is my past week has been busy at work and at  home and I really had nothing exciting to say except I was out of energy and time.  Too much going on and it's still out there like a stationary front on the weather man's map. It's just hanging over the city all sultry. But enough of that because this is one super ball I want to find it's way outside my scull.

2. There is a long standing story that my writing poetry is an attempt to find a loophole in mortality.  So when I read in Book of Kells this week about poet Patrick Lane at the Skagit Poetry Festival how after a poet died the wife of the poet had the family and friends of her husband memorize each 5 poems of his. In this way, each of them had five of his poems alive within them and they would be able to share them with others. By doing this she was keeping her husband and his work alive in the world. So I'm thinking this immortality thing for poets can work.... kind of.

 3. Reading an earlier blog post by Martha Salino I marveled at the description of the writing relationship with Heather McHugh during an independent study. Sure, from what I've read of Heather and her work I've been exposed to this was the kind of thing any serious writer would likely be ga-ga over. Still, what this brought to my mind was not specifically anything about Martha and Heather but the value of interaction of writers in general. I've often thought for instance of writers I'd love to even just have an hour lunch with to talk poetry in general. Their writing processes or motivations. Where do they feed their creative hungers? Things they try never to do when they write. I think about who I'd tag for such an occasion - it's all fantasy - but after all, poets are good at dreaming of the far fetched. I always enjoy reading the letters of poets because there often is the more personal and revealing side of the artist that comes through.

I've read several poems online this week that have me thinking about various different topics.  Strife in third world countries, couple of poems about rather mundane items and last but not least, travel. These things have been rolling through my thought process because I like to thing about poems that I read that truly seem to bring fresh approaches to writing. For example, I've thought a lot about in writing collections of themed poems, how do you talk about one or two things for say 35 poems and keep your reader wanting to read the next poem? How do you keep it fresh... moving and different?

Never to Be Seen

Patches invigorate the ready to wear line

she put to test and no one could be certain—

she ever came out of the blind.

There were rumors, I’m sure

you’ve heard that she never wanted to be

seen after he left her; after all the fuss

over Palm Springs, over the night the moon lapsed

into a deep coma and the best that he could do

was a sad impersonation of a neurotic art whore.

The things he did for a painting or two…

no wonder the poor dear would cloth herself

in camouflage.

Turning to Stories–Alzheimer's Patients Improve Interaction

Technorati Tags: Alzheimer's disease,dementia,story telling

First off, I want to acknowledge NPR for this post but also say a few words in general about their value in the community. NPR fills a hole in the media landscape that I really don’t see anyone else really touching, besides a higher quality of journalism then what we get from  the rest of the media gene pool. With the decline in network television and the sensationalism of Cable we have lost something that those in their in their 30’s and under really have never experienced. Yes, modern times have given us much progress, but we’ve paid a price in other ways. But I deviate from this post.

What I really want to say is that I was impressed with the NPR story about a program in Seattle where volunteers are working with patients with Alzheimer's disease and other types of dementia to find ways to improve interaction with others in a low-stress environment.

Using a program called Time Slips, volunteers utilize poetic language of improvisational storytelling to invite people with dementia to express themselves and connect with others. The program founder Anne Basting describes the importance of their work this way… "People with dementia start to forget their social role; they might not remember they're a spouse ... a parent," says Basting. "They need a social role through which they can express who they are, and the role of storyteller really supplies that."

You can listen to the NPR Story HERE.

Naomi Shihab Nye latest book reviewed by Thomas Devaney

Book Review: ‘Transfer’ from Naomi Shihab Nye

Naomi Shihab Nye is one of the most spirited voices in American poetry. The author, editor, and translator of more than 30 volumes, she is best known for her poetry collections Fuel (1998) and You and Yours (2005), and her award-winning anthology of international poems for young people This Same Sky (1992). In her affirming introduction for that book, she writes, “Whenever someone suggests ‘how much is lost in translation!’ I want to say, ‘Perhaps — but how much is gained!’ ” »Read story

Katrina Vandenberg - New Poetry Book

Katrina Vandenberg wowed me several years back with her first poetry manuscript published as "Atlas." I had the opportunity to hear her read personally in Kansas City and purchased her book later as a result.  I saw an article online that appeared in the Twin Cities Star Tribune about her  her latest book... "Using letters as a frame, Vandenberg exercises restraint in her poems, letting the personal and historical inform one another." Catch the complete write up here. This will have to go on my books to buy list.

The Problem With Poetry

Confession Tuesday - It's All Good

It’s at time once again. Let’s go to the confessional.

Dear Reader:

A week since my last confession and a much better week weather wise. The weekend I wanted to Xerox and run off like 365 days like it.

Today it was actually warm in my office in the afternoon which resulted in my turning to a fan for some relief. I confess I get crank when the office gets warm. A co-worker visiting me in the afternoon on a mater thought it cold. I swear I don’ know what she was talking about. I felt like at best I was pushing around warm air. I confess that I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Thursday as our office is going to the ball game and I’m counting on this weather to continue.

Last weekend I wrote a very good draft in one sitting.  I confess that makes me uneasy to say because I know how rate those instances are. Still, I’ve done one rewrite – one very small change rewrite on it and I’m just letting it sit a bit longer while I think about it some more. I want to write like this all the time though I confess I realize how totally unrealistic that is. That’s why I tend to not get too excited about NAPOWRIMO in April. I’ve done it and produced some keepers but it tends to ad stress to the writing mix. Not a good ad-in ingredient.

I confess this month has some very exciting components yet ahead. My son is getting married and my daughter who has been away in school is retuning permanently. No kidding, this is not a dream. I keep pinching myself and I have the red marks to prove it!

Writers Lead Russian Opposition

RIA Novosti, the largest Russian news agency, reports that leading Russian writers spearheaded a 10,000 person protest against President Vladimir Putin's rule: A host of Russian literary figures led thousands of people through the squares and boulevards of downtown Moscow on Sunday afternoon to an opposition camp that has become the epicenter of the challenge to the rule of President Vladimir Putin.

Protest leaders say that arbitrary and illegal arrests of  persons by the Russian government has lead to their opposition to Putin's reign.

Writers and in particular poets have held a special place in Russian society over the years. It will be with watching to see what course this opposition takes if the government clamps down especially hard.

Behind the Deak

A shadow fell across his leafy brow.
The sinister one. The heavy one.
His feet were big as his buckets
propped on his desk-
it was the mammoth dark wood desk
that created a chasm between him
and anyone who strolled in.

Casual was not his color.  Casual was too close.
It allowed for comfort and that tilted the scales
in the wrong direction.  Always he strives to be
that backhand shot across the net that comes to you
in such a way you have to lean hard and fast to return
the serve and only with dumb luck will the volley be back
in his court anytime soon.

A Poem Takes Place

"A door opens, a door shuts. In between you had a glimpse: a garden, a person, a rainstorm, a dragonfly, a heart, a city. I think of those round glass Victorian paperweights ...a clear globe, self-complete, very pure, with a forest or village or family group within it. You turn it upside down, then back. It snows. Everything is changed in a minute. It will never be the same in there - not the fur trees, nor the gables, nor the faces. So a poem takes place."  ~ Sylvia Plath

Thank You Maurice for the Gift of Your Imagination

"I believe there is no part of our lives, our adult as well as child life, when we're not fantasizing, but we prefer to relegate fantasy to children, as though it were some tomfoolery only fit for the immature minds of the young. Children do live in fantasy and reality; they move back and forth very easily in a way we no longer remember how to do."

Maurice Bernard Sendak  - 10 June 1928 – 8 May 2012

Let the wild rumpus start in heaven!

Confession Tuesday - Roundup Edition

Dear Reader:

I have the day off today and it suddenly occurred to me that I should have a day off every Confession Tuesday.  I actually have it off because it's Harry S Truman's birthday. I know that some of you may find that odd, but around here the nation's 33rd President is a pretty big deal.  And who am I to question a paid holiday. It could be celebrate dirt clod day and I confess it would be happy to have it off.

I confess that this past week we've had too much rain for my liking. I can hear the green stuff growing again and that means I need to mow the lawn. [sigh]

This past week I've been moving lots of things around including adding the book case above to our bedroom. I confess that I have a habit of many books scattered all about the house. I have book cases in my office but I will still carry books out including especially the bedroom. Now I don't have an excuse to let them pile up in the bedroom and I will be able to find many of those transitory books with greater ease.

Another benefit of the new book case and cleaning in my office I have managed to locate what I believe to be nearly all of my personal journals. I confess that these did not have a specific home and now about 20 of them occupy one shelf dedicated just to them. I confess this has inspired me to plan to recycle through these some 4,000 plus pages looking for gems that I can go back and inspire me to take them steps beyond where I left off.

Reading in Remembering Randall - a memoir of Randall Jarrell written by his wife Mary von Schrader Jarrell, she discusses Randall's work on Translations as something he turned allowing him to use his writing energies  even when he felt poemless himself. She talks about him at times wondering if he had already written his last book.  I confess that reading this was encouraging to me in that I realize someone the callabur  of Randall Jarrell also had doubts and dry periods.

I  confess that I'm looking forward to a summer free of dry writing periods. Hey, I can hope!

The Pen and the Bell

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t a book—it’s a beautiful, quiet path into the deep woods of contemplative practice through the medium of the written word." ~ Norman Fischer, from the Foreword to The Pen and the Bell


I don't know about you but this sounds pretty sumptuous to me.   Check out the author's site here:

 The Pen and the Bell - Mindful Writing in a Busy World

Mag 115: The Way To Read...

   image by Manu Pombrol         

                                          

Barely anything else is relevant

the surroundings conically insular;

reading aloud has ringing quality

reverberating off Mason and water.

Did I say water? I hardly notice it

we have become temperate equals.

This is the way to read a superior literary work—

aloud, to yourself and the rest of the world be damned.

Michael A. Wells

Mag 115

If

Outstretched is how this week as been

with multiple vulnerabilities sacked out

in bunk beds resting up for the next day.

The weekend is nigh but I fear it

hardly will differ from the last

with no demarcation, no reverence,

no amount of appreciation for

white space, for quiet on the page,

for ink that might occur if given

half a chance.

What my Biorhythms say about my day today...

Your intuition is intensified. You can foresee events and sense which way the wind is blowing. Such ability will give you a greater understanding of others, and will be advantageous in current situations. Be aware of opportunities that may present themselves today. Plan for the future. New long-term contracts could turn out to be successful.

Physical state: Negative
Emotional state: Negative
Intellectual state: Positive
Intuitive state: Positive

Emotional minimum

The emotional minimum is characterized by a decrease in desires and a tendency toward depression, apathy, and irritability (usually women are more strongly affected). This is a difficult period for creative people, due to feelings of apathy. For the same reason, this period is not conducive to love.

Good - Bad

"If good poetry is to be written, enormous amounts of bad poetry must be written too, if only because it is important for a serious poet to know what it is she/he is trying not to do." ~ Germaine Greer, The 
Independent on Sunday, 7 May 2000

Confession Tuesday - Poet Crush List Edition

May Day, May Day! 

Dear Reader:

Can you believe it’s May first already? It’s been a week since my last confession and I have no idea where time is flying to this year.  Let’s get started.

So Poetry Month has come and gone.  I confess that I did not write a poem a day.  But I didn't fall off the NaPoWriMo band wagon because I never really go on it.  Let's say I wrote a number of poetry drafts - some of which are keepers and I avoided the stress of the Poem-A-Day Rat Race.  I confess that I have no shame about my approach this year.

It’s been about six months since I’ve done a Poet Crush list so today’s confession is a good point in which to reassess the members of my ten person list.   (see last list here) I’ve actually given this some thought for several days now. The thought process goes something like this…

·        If I’m stuck in a writer’s funk, who are the poets I go to over and over and read for a jump start with some inspiration?

·        What poets am I likely to find on my night stand on any given night?

·        Who do I often refer to persons who ask, “Who should I read next?”

·        Whose body of work do I most like to read for shear enjoyment?

·        What poets would I like to pick their brain over lunch or dinner?

·        If I hear the word poet or poetry who are the first to come to my mind?

Invariably application of the above will produce repeat poetry practitioners and those ten who most often repeat in these categories represent my poetry “crushes.”

I would say this list is often in flux.  I suppose I could reassess monthly its members but I think a six month checkup is probably often enough.

So here it is… I confess these ten poets currently comprise my Poet Crush List.

1.      W.S. Merwin

2.      James Richardson (new to list)

3.      Sharon Olds

4.      Kelli Russell Agodon

5.      Dean Young (new to list)

6.      John Ashbery

7.      Mary Biddinger (new to list)

8.      Charles Simic

9.      Ada Limon

10.   Beth Ann Fennelly

Note:  these appear in no special order - Also , these are all living poets.  I could do a dead poet crush list too, maybe I will.

So who are your poet crushes?

Journal Bits 4-19-2012 to 4-17-2012

Spring showers falling today. I've been inside - cleaning and thought I'd take a break and post some Journal Bits...

Since April 19th, 2012


4-19-2012 "Went out and got dinner for us last night to rent two movies for us last night and strawberry shortcake dessert. Rented two movies for us to watch and they were bombs..."


4-20-2012  [Copied this from a post by Kelli Russell Agodon... made me smile though seriously I think some truth lies therein... I believe that poets simply have their own humor that almost no one else gets. It just goes with the territory.]  "Sometimes being a poet feels as if you're in your own comedy."


4-20-2012 Reading at Crossroads Tonight:  I read, The Geese Returned Today, Whirly Girl, If I may Ask and I Offered You Wine.


4-22-2012  "unconsciously you stunk/in right field and something/about your shirt - your non-regulation//It all came to a head/when you were pulled/after too many errors/too much pic-neck/maybe too many Brauts//finishing out the game on the pic-neck table bench/and the search for your glove/ someone said they thought/someone put it in a trash can."


4-24-2012 Listening to Madeline Albright on Morning Joe talk about here heritage as well as her new memoir, Prague Winter. Fascinating stuff. I want to read this book.


4-27-2012 "why is it that things/mattering seem such a loss/that mattering seems beyond control/like you are urinating/down your pants legs/that it's just happening/that's all there is.//Your pissed on legs don't move/they don't run to hide/they don't seek fresh trousers/they just stand/without a care.