Red Paper Flower - wanting more...

Suzanne Frischkorn

Red Paper Flower by Suzanne Frischkorn offers the reader textured layers of life on page. From back breaking first crush on font porch steps to The Woman Skinner of Wisconsin there is a range dissonance here that keeps you moving through the pages uncertain of what's ahead in the road.

Frischkorn is not shy about subject matter nor timid about exploratory form.
The First Signs unfolds like flower bud opening in sweetness until you realize the it fully open.  Dick & Jane's Divorced Index is brilliant.

My personal favorites were Character Traits, The First Signs, and Bees.

Red Paper Flower

There is wit, sadness, and the still of speechlessness all hung out together in this chapbook. If I had a criticism of this book, it would be that there is too little of it and I was left wanting much more.

February Issue of Gravel is Out & Is Home For One Of My Poems

I love editors! Yes, even the ones that send me rejection letters. Editors like writers a generally in love with language and devote enormous amounts of time reading through hundreds, sometimes thousands of pages of copy and then balance it all (I'm sure sometimes with excruciating pain) to make selections that they believe will be the right fit.

A big thank you to the editors of Gravel Magazine for selecting my work I Do Not Lightly Let Go in their February Issue.

This piece explores the difficulty associated with attachment, material things and emotional meanings.

There were a couple of poems by others that I really liked in my first reads....

• The Day We Enter the War by Dale Patterson
• Hand-Me-Downs by Sarah Darvec

Check them out and the others too!

Apeiron Review - Issue 5 - Winter 2014

A big thank you to the editors of Apeiron Review who
selected two of my poems for inclusion in Issue #5 -Winter
2014 issue.

The issue can be viewed at  on their web site at Apeiron Review 
or  here on Scribed where it can be seen and or downloaded.

My two pieces are Appreciation 105 & In Bed 106. 

Lots of work in this issue, I've not had tome to digest everything yet but will be reading  this weekend!

Test Driving Other People's Poems or Becoming Someone Else's Noun

Last night I tried climbing into another poet's poems with the idea of taking them for a text drive. How do they Feel?

I kicked the tires to see if any lines fell off. I put myself in the place of the people or things [in the poems]. I became a number of different nouns. How did being a Birch tree make me feel in these circumstances? I need to do this exercise more often.*



*Journal post the morning of 1-30-14

Confession Tuesday - Juggling Edition

Dear Reader:

It's been a marathon of MLB video games, 3 more submissions, one rejection and one new book to poetry library since my last confession.

I confess that some of the submission platforms frustrate me. Not all, but some submission protocols  make it impossible to withdraw say two poems and leave a third for consideration. Or any combination for that matter. The only recourse is to withdraw everything sent to them at the same time. I do appreciate the places who have put enough forethought into the process to allow for individually withdrawing work from a batch that was sent.

I got out to a reading Friday night. I haven't been doing enough of that. There was a time when I had two to three evening poetry events on my calendar each week but I've gone through a period that I simply tried to not be away from home so much at night. I confess some of my pull back was due to the fact that I was just out there too much. A person can do that you know. I'm wanting to strike more of a balance this year.

I confess that I very much wanted to attend AWP this year in Seattle but it is just not to be. My wife has suggested I start saving  now to make sure I can make it to Minneapolis next year. There are so many awesome poets that grace the Northwest landscape that it would be nice to meet some of them in person. Sure some may be at AWP next year but  there are a number of people with new books that are being launched at the event this year. I confess I'm a little sad about this.

I've been juggling poems this past week. That's right, it's not enough that I'm a poet, now I want to be an entertainer too. Okay, not really. I'm not really tossing  poems or anything in the air and catching them, but I am trying  to organize work; make a poem fit  here and there with other work in a manuscript. At times it's enough to make me want to throw everything  into the air and stand back.

Hey, did you know that it's only 18 days till Giants Pitches & Catchers  report to camp? Just typing this here makes me smile.

I've finished reading Suzanne Frischkorn's book Red Paper Flower and I'll write a review of it in a few days when I can carve out some time to do it. I will say up front I loved it and I confess I must read more of here work.

So many books, not enough time or big enough budget. (sigh)

That's it for this week....

Not Writing Daily?

Not writing daily?  Even 15 - 25  minutes devoted each day is a prescription for growth in your writing. Besides, it establishes writing as a habit. Do more when you can, but give it at least 15 minutes each day.

The Mag 204: Winter Comes to the Old Mill

The Mill - 1964 - Andrew Wyeth

The old Mill is lost

in my snow blindness

eyes watering 

from the cold

looking through the wetness

the blur is magnified 

by the power of headache

that splits my forehead

my skin curls from the cold

and once inside my arms reveal

a pattern of raindrop goose bumps 

up and down the extremity of epidermis 

exposed

Michael A. Wells

The Mag 204

Saturday - Potpourri

Last night I was at the Downtown Neon Gallery  for Music, Poetry and Art. It was good to hear  David Arnold Hughes read, I had not heard David in a while. There was music & other readers as well. The event is co-sponsored by The Writers Place and produced by Martha Gershun.

Yesterday, I added a new poetry book to my poetry library; Red Paper Flowers by Suzanne Frischkorn  I'll update you on the book in a day or two.


THOUGHT FOR THE DAY....

"The best poets inhibit the world with quicker senses then most of us. In town or country, they see, smell and hear more." - Margaret Drabble The Forward Book of Poetry, 1994

Confession Tuesday - 4 Day Weekend Edition

Tuesday & time to confess. Won't you come with me to the confessional?

Dear Reader:

It's been one concert, three accepted poems, 4 rejections, one disappointing football game and two new books since my last confession.

All and all I can't complain much about the past week.  I've
had disappointments but those have been balance by the good and the result  is a week that offered a lot to be thankful for.  I confess that I turned the weekend into a four day weekend by taking a vacation day Friday and adding MLK day and Presto - like magic four days off!
It was had to go back to the office today, but it wasn't  too tough of a day.

Over the week I accumulated homes for three poems and 4 rejection letters. I'll take that ratio any week. Perhaps this is why I came out of these four days feeling a poetic high. Lots of writing done. and it may sound funky but  I decided my home office (where I write) could no longer be called my office. Having an office at my regular job I hated the duality of the word office as it  interchanged in meaning from home to workplace. So I though about it and decided my writing  room at home would henceforth be known as my writing studio and not an office. As trite as this might sound to anyone else, I confess it was a big deal to me.

Watching the 49ers - Seahawks game on Sunday was a disappointment. I wanted the 49ers to win but I confess it was a good game to watch. Both teams played hard and there were perhaps two plays in which the outcome hinged.  Of course one was the tipped pass in the end zone that was intercepted.  Either of these teams could have won this game. I confess that I was proud of the way San Fran played in a very tough venue and the way the defense held Seattle in the red zone.

I received two books in the mail this weekend. I confess I could be a book slut. There are few things that turn me on like getting a new book in the mail. Right now I have so many that I want and I have to be really careful in budgeting my resources given the size of my want list.

While this is not a secret if you have read my blog posts for the week but I am a big Kenny G fan. Friday night Cathy and I attended the Kenny G concert at the Kansas City Center for Preforming Arts. I cannot begin to tell you how awesome that place is. Last time I saw Kenny G was at the municipal auditorium back in the late 1990's. Acoustically I have never seen a place like this. Kenny was magnificent. I confess I felt blessed to hear him again in concert and was especially excited to share the experience with Cathy. Last time I went by myself.  I do take a lot of grief from my kids about Kenny G. I keep telling them I'll make them listen to him at my wake. They remind me when I'm dead I won't  know if they are there or not.

So my week was really a positive one overall. I know they can't all be like this, but I confess that I appreciate both the downs and the upside of  life. Without the downs there is not as much to appreciate on the upside.

Amen!

Kansas City Area Poetry Events Coming Up

I-70 Review Contributors Meeting
Tuesday January 21st, 2014
7:00 PM to 9:00 PM

Central Resource Library
9875 W. 87th ST.
Overland Park, KS  66212


Music - Poetry & Art 
Downtown Neon Gallery
Friday, January 24, 2014
7:00 PM to 9:00 PM

1921 E. Truman Rd.
K.C., MO 64127



Writers Place Salon - Open Mic
Monday, January 27th, 2014
7:00 PM - 8:00 PM
hosted by Sharon Eiker

3607 Pennsylvania
K.C., MO 64111

HADARA BAR-NADAV, WAYNE MILLER, AND COREY MARKS - Reading at The Writers Place
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
7:00 PM to 9:00 PM

3607 Pennsylvania
K.C., MO 64111

MAG 203: Arise

Musician in the Rain by Robert Doisneau

Melancholy skies smear this day

to dampen plans—

The human spirit resilient 

as it is, goes on.

Traveling about, final brush strokes

to canvass, standing under an umbrella.

There is music to be made, 

the day gets no sympathy from the symphony.

There are glum mouths to be raised 

like recovering sunken ships.

The spirits will rise

it is the arts that awaken us;

it is humanity

at it's beast.

Michael Allyn Wells

Mag 203

Two Orphan Poems Find Homes

I never cease to be excited when I get news that poems I've written have been offered new homes. You send these out into the world... a big world that has lots of other orphan poems to pick and choose from so when the word comes I just get silly happy.

• I Listen to My Cereal
• I Stole Your Voice 

These two are going to the same home for publication in mid-March.  Yeah!

Mail Bag - Books! Yeah!

What is better then books in the mail? Well if you are waiting  for my answer don't hold your breath unless you look well in  blue.

The Saturday Mailbag contained:

• the WAR of ART by Steven Pressfield
• The Crafty Poet - A Portable Workshop by Diane Lockward

I'll let you know what I think of them in a later post. 

Friday Night at The Center for Preforming Arts - G Man

Friday night  Cathy and I attended Kenny G's performance at at the Center for Preforming Arts in Kansas City and I have to say this is a magnificent venue. I'be long been a fan of Kenny G's music and first saw him here in Kansas City at the Municipal Auditorium back in the late 1990's. Excellent performance then as well but no comparison in the acoustics in the two places. 

The Arts Center is elegant from inside to out. Very contemporary architectural design - actually I go further and say it is avant-guard.  Nearly all of Kenny's music was played on a soprano sax with a little deviation for some bass sax.

Besides the music, Kenny  was entertaining in the side show of banter with our symphony conductor. By the saw, the symphony plus the four music ensemble that travels with Kenny were so well synchronized, no small feat for playing with a solo performer who provides the platform the orchestra must build around.  

Regardless what your musical tastes - if you can see it and hear it the the Center for the Preforming Arts - it will only enhance the experience.  We were in Helzberg Hall

one of two separate venues within the center. 

I have to give kudos as well to conductor Aram Demirjian.

Overall an excellent evening  and on a side note I got to

share this experience with my wife, Cathy. Last time I 

was unaccompanied.   

Confession Tuesday - Mega Muffin Edition

Dear Reader:

It's been one another week since my last confession. How did that happen?

Sunday I went to my son's house to watch the 49ers playoff game. I brought BBQ wings. I confess that I realize that I don't have enough one on one time with my kids. Three of the four are in town and I really  ought to make it my goal to get together with each of them periodically even if it is just over a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Needless to say Mike and I were very happy with the outcome of the game, but it was also nice just to catch up on other things going on.  They all have busy lives and I can't always expect them to take the initiative to get together though this one was an invite from my son.

I received 4 rejections letters this past week. I'm totally cool with it. I got off several submissions on Saturday so I just keep them moving. There were some new ones going out for the first time. It felt especially good to have new work going out.

My birthday was Friday and on Monday the office had belated birthday muffins to celebrate. I confess that it's hard to enjoy the super-sized muffins knowing they have carbs out the wazoo. It's like if I eat one I have to forgo lunch unless I want to be zoned out all afternoon as my body works to process the blood sugar.

I ordered two books today with an Amazon gift-card from Cathy Ann - my daughter in Tennessee. I confess they were poetry and art related. Big surprise.

I've not had any Diet Coke since the day before Thanksgiving. I confess this weekend I almost stopped and bought one but I resisted. I am however seriously thinking of giving up giving it up for Lent. Does that make sense?

Well, it's later then I intended to be doing this and I'm calling it a night.

Take care & have a great week.

Journal Bits... Slices of jottings since January 1, 2014

A slice from my journal:

• January 2 - [in] 2013 I submitted 129 poems for publication and had an acceptance rate of 9.1%. I still have 53 submissions awaiting answers.
• January 3 - cream soda as a hairball remedy/turkey bacon caught off guard/Mr Tambourine man, play a song for me/I need to be wandering along/in this Halachic place and time
• January 8 - A fan circulates the discomfort/that we might equally share /in the misery
• January 12 - I opened the door ajar it was God. I know I had never seen him not even/pictures, but it was him. He has capital G monogram look. 

Mag 202: Predatory Waters

Phare de La Jument off the coast of Brittany by Jean Guichard

With a ravenous roar a hungry ocean

tries to swallow it whole. White saliva waves

encircle and crash against it.  Again and again

the waters engulf the phallic structure.

Over and over  the waves bash and bluster

in stormy anger, but the man made pillar survives.

The sea retreats in exhaustion.  Smaller waves

lap at the sides now as if to tease. Gentle 

massaging motions as if to lull to sleep-

but the ocean will try again. An unrelenting

predator that will build up it's strength

as well as hunger for anything within reach.    

Michael A. Wells

Magpie 202

Every Artist

Every artist was first an amateur. - Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Confession Tuesday - Shivering Edition

Dear Reader:

It's been one Arctic Vortex (too many), one night of frozen pipes, one fractured tooth & filling, 4 submissions, and  one overdue library book since my last confession.

I can't  bitch too much about the Arctic blast that came through Kansas City these last couple days because so many others in the Mid-west have suffered the some of the same sub-zero to single digit temperatures we have and those in the Northeast are have it really bad. I confess I was taken by surprise when I realized our pipes were frozen early Monday. Fortunately I was able to identify the problem where the main lines comes into our garage and able to thaw it out pretty quickly without any damage to pipes. I really feel fortunate because I'm sure there are people who were not nearly as fortunate.

The cold was not all that  unnerved me this weekend. I discovered a very sharp edge one a tooth and upon further examination I discovered it was broken. It dawned on me that it was probably the same tooth that some years back was really sharp and I had a filling that they had to use a band on when filling it. I confess at the time I was fearful that it was beyond filling. Upon exploration of the damage at the dental office this morning it was determined that it was the previously filled tooth and that both the tooth and the filling were now fractured. The tooth is now a candidate for a root canal. Never had one and I confess just the two words together sound like a bad thing. Anyway, I'm waiting on a call to schedule the next appointment.

The transformation from 2013 to 2014 hasn't seemed all that great. I mean it's not been catastrophic or anything like that but it hasn't been a panacea of emerging hope either. I need to remind myself that 7 days is no way to judge the future any time, much less a new year.


As it is, I'm ready to embrace that  there is some good coming  right around the corner. I know I have two poems that are coming out  mid-month and there is that to look forward too. Meantime, I will plug along ready to embrace good.

The Mag 201 The Ebb of Nightlife

New York At Night -Vivienne Gucwa

The magenta of day

now sullied by mist and streetlight.

The streets fill like a drawn bath.

Clubs and restaurants swell

in song and dance as sponges  

soaking in the crowds;

to be spit out by two a.m.

and the streets drained. 

  

 Michael A. Wells

The Mag 201

In Case You Missed Any Of These...

From around the Internet a few things I found interesting this week.

• Nin Andrews interviews Shanna Compton, editor of Bloof Books.  READ HERE
• Fritiancy - Nancy Friedman discusses her Words of the Year READ HERE
• Under Rated Books in 2013 from Salon READ HERE
• A New Twist To Writer Residency READ HERE
• Bob Dylan - Songwriter or Poet?  READ HERE
• A Year of Favorites - Mairead Case READ HERE

First Submission Saturday of the New Year

My muse is reminding me that I need to  whip out some new submissions. Thankfully I have a couple of new pieces ready. Gotta get crack'n or she gets pretty pissed.

Have you submitted any work yet this year?

Crunching the numbers for 2013

Just as a point of reference for me to look back on next year.... I ended the year having submitted a total of 129 poems to various publishing venues. Of those, 53 poems remaining pending. My acceptance ratio for the 12 month period was 9.1%

Still a lot of work out there awaiting  word.

Upcoming Poetry Events in The Kansas City Area

Riverfront Reading: Mary Bunten & Gary Lechliter Friday, January 10, 2014 8:00 PM

Fiction writer Mary Bunten and poet Gary Lechliter read from their work. Mary Bunten's work has appeared in SAVEUR, The Houston Press, Art Lies, The Austin Chronicle, and elsewhere. She currently works as the director of The Writers Place.

Gary Lechliter's poetry has recently appeared in Main Street Rag,New Mexico Poetry Review,Straylight, Tears in the Fence, and Wisconsin Review. He is the editor and publisher of the I-70 Review


Blue Monday @ the Uptown Arts Bar, Monday, January 13, 2014 8:00 PM
Five minutes of fame at our open mic, hosted by David Arnold Hughes, Uptown Arts Bar - 3611 Broadway, Kansas City, MO 64111 816-960-4611

Confession Tuesday - Year End Condition

Tuesday evening and it's time to head to the confessional for the last time this year.  Join me as I unload what I've been carrying around.

Dear Reader:

It's been two weeks since my last confession. I confess I was a slacker over the holiday.

It's funny I generally approach each year end wanting to shake the dust of the past year from my feet. Usually I can not wait to put it behind me focusing on all the bad things that are lingering in my memory. I usually figure whatever the new year brings can't be worse than the one just past.  This year I confess I can actually think of some things that have gone right for a change.

I have to say that I am thankful that we managed to get the required work done on our water meter line of font done without having to bring in outside help. This was a big savings.

I'm thankful that I have had a very successful year of Submission Saturdays. This was not something that was just good luck, but a determination on my part that has turned something I dreaded into a habit. A good one. And the results have payed off with more acceptances - getting  homes for my work. It makes writing so much more enjoyable when you know others will get to see your work.

We were able to reclaim our garage and park our car in it. This has been awesome this winter already.

I was also able to move back into my home office. I think it has been beneficial to my writing and writing related tasks.

Those are a few of the positive things but I confess there are things that have been struggles.  Sadness also seemed a be a theme this year as we lost three beloved pets. Our dog Mo and our cats Autumn, and Abby. Also, my son lost the his Mastiff named Church. I confess that I don't deal with the loss of pets well. They are family members. They also remind me of our own human frailty and mortality. Obviously I could really do without any more in 2014.

I confess that 2013 was also the year of binge TV for my wife and I. Yes, we did 8 seasons of 24 - all 196 episodes. Then we tackled Glee all past seasons and followed the current season. Then we too on Bones - watching all past seasons of it. Honestly some days we would do like a 6 episode marathon. No everyday, but I won't deny that it happened.

Now I could say that  that was a lot of time wasted. But honestly, most of that I confess to having enjoyed.

I've probably read more this year then most past as well. That can't be a bad thing.

As we get ready for the new year I've been busy assessing some things. Taking an inventory of what I would do the same this year and what I might do differently.

Besides writing I've started painting in acrylics and water colors. I'm not professing to be great at it but  it is relaxing and I'm hopeful that my skills will improve. I feel like it is just an extension of exercising the creative mind. I hope to keep up these activities in 2014.  I'm also wanting to start playing  my saxophone again. I've done a little in 2013 but  nothing consistent. So this is another creative activity I hope to infuse into my routine in the new year.

Submission Saturday was such a success it will continue.

I confess I did not get out  to read or to other readings nearly enough this year. This is something I need to be more committed to. There was a time when I was reading every month and sometime multiple times but that has been so long ago.

I need to work on some of my ties with other poets. I believe community is so very important for writers and I've not focused enough on this the past couple of years.

If this sounds very random, that's because my mind is feeling pretty random right now.  The thing is I have in my mind some things I want different, but I confess can't say that I have any defined new years resolutions.  
I suppose I have a few hours left...

Happy New Years to all of you!

Journal Bits.....

I've not done a slice of my journal post lately so I thought  I'd feature some bits since December 15...

• 12-15-13 - New journal with clean passages for me to fill. Always a good deal of hope, anticipation and adrenaline (associated with).
• 12-18-13 - There is the here and now with all the talk and no proximity. I am a party to this but not a part. 
• 12-18-13 - "Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened." - Rachel Johnson from Notting Hill, Actually.
• 12-25-13 - "Chekhov is the poet of melancholy and isolation and wishing  you were somewhere else than where you are." - Salman Rushdie
• 12-25-13 - ...as nigh comes we drive to the utmost extreme of the city - where the suburbs have ended and the city really isn't anymore.
• 12-26-13 - Traditions seem to be my friend. I'm most comfortable in (the) throngs of tradition. I suspect this is a Capricorn thing. 
• 12-27-13 - Distant train whistle/tracks rumble in my head/hot steel searing thoughts/cauterized-

Submission Saturday....

It's my last Submission Saturday of the year and I will be sending out material but also following the advise of these guys... how about you?

In the Margins

It is in the margins 
that the quiet becomes loudest.

Publishing Poetry Need Not Be The Swimsuit Competition

It has seemed to me that I probably read more women poets then men. I thought I would explore that possibility by pulling a random sampling of poetry books from my library bookshelves. Nothing scientific about this sampling... I reached without looking and pulled. If it was a book about the craft of poetry or a critical review I sat it aside and continued until I had 10 books. I carried them to my desk and went through them to determine the gender of the author. The results were 4 men and 6 women. Actually I might have thought it would be more lopsided in favor of women but I guess I was pleasantly convinced that as a reader of the poetry arts, I'm probably  more balanced then I thought.

In case you are wondering, the titles and authors are as follows:

1. Atlas by Katrina Vandenberg
2. Wolf Watching by Ted Hughes
3. On Days Like These - Dan Quisenberry
4. Factory of Tears - Valzhyna Mort
5. Small Knots - Kelli Russell Agodon
6. Conamara Blues - John O'Donohue
7. Nine Horses - Billy Collins
8. The Seven Ages - Louise Gluck
9. Forms of Intercession - Jane Pupek
10. View With A Grain of Sand - Wislawa Szymbroska

Because in many instances I have multiple titles by the same author I was pleased that none of the random pickings resulted in more then one book by the same author. 

So the point of all this? I read Kelli Agodon's blog post today - Support Women Poets: No More Measuring Bathing Suits.   Kelli's piece centers around thoughts on discussions that have transpired as a result of  this article from the New York Daily News. Two comments made by men are as follows... "Does one write better with fewer clothes on?" To which another replies, "That's the first thing I thought of..."

I saw nothing wrong with the attire any of these women were wearing. Even so, they were photo shoots. Nothing suggests any of these women look like these photos pulling a late night witting session amid papers strewn about an a half full cup of now cold coffee. I could only hope no one would judge me on what I might look like at 1:00 a.m. working at my laptop. If Larry and Mitch ( presuming these are their real names) were the subjects of a news article would they show up disheveled? Would the photo journalist have gone with such pictures?  

It's pretty obvious that in the publishing world there are many hurtles that women writers have to overcome to get taken seriously.Any number of publication statistics will  on an increasing basis bear this out.

Larry and Mitch may have just been trying to be cute, I have no way of knowing. Still their words underscore a very real issue for women in many areas not just writing. That issue is being taken seriously. 

I've read many women writers who bring incredible power and voice to their work in poetry.  We are not a gender blind society any more then we are color blind. Sadly, there are avenues that greatly ignore many women poets. I think the same can be true of many older poets. Sure there are the Ashbery and Merwins, but there were not always older. I'm talking about older writers there are newer to writing but already past their prime. Ashbery and Merwin made names for themselves while they were still quite young. It's hard for a fifty or sixty year old poet that has only been writing a few years to maneuver the publishing landscape as well. 

But Agodon makes a valid point that some critics of women writers will find whatever avenue to discredit them that  they can. Too slutty, not attractive. If you don't like their work talk about  where you find it falls short. People, it's about the writing! I can't imagine many men who could stand to undergo the scrutiny many women go through over their appearance.  

I suppose over the years I've become a bit of a male feminist. I have 3 daughters, I wonder how that happened? But feminism isn't  radical. Not really. It's about sensibility. 

I love poetry. Well written poetry. Poetry that makes me thinks. That moves my inner core. I like it  regardless of the gender of the poet. I know many people don't like lists. But maybe I should do another  post on some of the poets that caught my fancy during 2013. I promise it would include men and women. 

 

Oxford Dictionary will provide you with a word that came into the being the year of your birth

1953
Your OED birthday word is: 
frenemy, n.
Meaning: A person with whom one is friendly, despite a fundamental dislike or rivalry; a person who combines the characteristics of a friend and an enemy.
See the entry in the OED to see a quotation of its first-known usage

Lowering my expectations for the night

  Sinus issues really suck. I've taken taken my Claritan D.

Going to take a book and go read. 

Confession Tuesday - Overdue Books Edition

Well, it's been one Holiday Luncheon, 7 more days without Diet Coke, and a new journal refill since my last confession. It's off to the confessional.

Dear Reader:

This week seems strange for some reason and I confess I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's the goofy weather changes from one day to the next. Perhaps it's the holiday season craziness. Or the full moon. Perhaps it's none of these and I just haven't paid enough attention to realize what it is, but things seem different. I know every day is a new day but I am used to sort of patterns that cycle throughout the year. This just feels different and I can't say why for certain.

We had our office holiday luncheon today. I did good. I had a Caesar salad and Lasagna. I cut the Lasagna in half and brought half home. I passed on dessert in spite of the fact they had a something with maple, butter cream and some kind of crunchy topping. I confess that I'm wild about maple. I mean when you have maple how can you go wrong? Same with bacon. And it you happen to have maple and bacon together, OMG!

No word this week on any of my many submissions floating around out there. No good news, no bad news. Some have been out long enough it's starting to bug me. Do any of you get wacky crazy over waiting  for word on submissions?

I confess I have overdue library books but don't tell the librarian. I think they are 4 days overdue.
I kind of remember when I was in high school (yeah my long term memory is still pretty well intact) I think it was actually considered some kind of badge of honor to have overdue library books. It may have secretely been a control issue. I have these and if someone else wants these they have to wait until I'm ready for them to have them.  I know several librarians and at least one of you is going to scold me for this or maybe put out a contract on me.

That's about all I got this week.  If we were playing poker it would be such a lousy hand I'd have to bluff.
Hope you all have a happy and safe week. - See you next Tuesday!

Writing is Another Contact Sport

Ha... so true, but the longer I write the thicker my skin gets. 

Don't Stress...

The page is blank... what are you waiting for? 

Are You Writing Today?

A vacation day from my 8 to 5 job and yes, I will be in my home office writing today. Hey, it's my 6 to whatever job...

Confession Tuesday Cold Turkey Edition

Another Tuesday has come and is quickly vaporizing before me. Won't you follow me to the confessional?

Dear Reader:

It's been three more submissions, one more completed poem, a partially painted canvass and no Diet Coke since my last confession.

That's right, I stopped Diet Coke cold turkey the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. If you own shares in Coca-Cola I apologize. No doubt their profits have taken a dive. So tomorrow will make it two weeks. Don't get me wrong, I'm not professing that I have given up Diet Coke forever, but for now, I'm off it. This past weekend was hard - especially Sunday I could easily have caved in and stopped for a 54 oz. at Quick Trip and I confess I thought seriously about it, but I didn't give in.  I confess that so far I've only been a little cranky.

I will be taking a vacation day tomorrow. I pretty much have to or I will get truncated vacation this pay period. I confess this is a relatively common problem for me as I am usually close to my maximum allowable accumulation and I earn another 7.something  each pay period so when it gets like this I almost have to take a day weekly or I get back to the max in no time. This is a problem I know many would like to have but honestly, when I take a week or more off - it almost isn't worth the break when I come back to a desk fill of work.

It's funny the little things one comes to appreciate. When my daughter moved out into her own home it freed up space in the garage for me to park. It's crazy how much I have enjoyed having the car in the garage when I leave of a morning. I confess that sometimes the simplest things become meaningful.

Another dilemma (besides vacation days) is that I am reading a bunch of books all at once and I want to focus on one and finish but I can't decide which one to plow ahead into.  Most of the time I don't mind being between several books but for some reason I'm wanting to wrap up another one quickly. I think it has to do with finishing another one before the year is out. If I would just pick one and stick to it  I might have time to finish two. I tend to go in spurts. Sometimes I will read only about 30 minutes a day.  When I'm reading poetry books it's another story. If it's poetry that I'm really into I will sometimes finish it  in one day or two. I will often read them multiple times.

I painted some this week and I may paint some more tomorrow. I confess that I like it better then it likes me. I'm hopeful that with time I will improve. I think many different arts complement each other and lend to our overall creative quotient. Sometimes thinking about a picture or certain music seems to open up my writing possibilities.

I confess that I'm confessed out and I'm off to read.

The Mag 197: Aerial

From The Guardian, Eyewitness

Aerial

Copious triumph overhead
the conquest of sky by sea gulls

who blend into the blue gray skies
and abruptly are everywhere.

A sneak attack on the beach head.
A monumental event – bombarding

the shoreline with an ugly grace.
Only God could engineer aerodynamics

on such a gangling bird. Feathered wings
on a lunchbox.


Michael Allyn Wells


The Mag 197

Confession Tuesday - Book Loving Fool Edition

Dear Reader:

Tuesday has come and that means it's confession time. So if you'll join me, I'm off to the confessional.

It's been one week, a four day holiday, one smoked turkey, and three new poetry books since my last confession.

It's been a strange week because I was out of the office between Thursday and Monday  so when I returned to the office today it was really like a Monday to me. A super Monday at that. Monday I scheduled off to take my mother for outpatient eye surgery and the preceding Thursday - Sunday were Thanksgiving  holiday extended weekend. I confess being out that long makes it hard to want to go back, but being off all those days adds anxiety as I am constantly thinking about work rolling in and piling up on my desk. As hard as it was to put all that anxiety out of my mind, I was pretty good at finding some level of relaxation.

I confess I stayed from the fray of black Friday shopping withe the exception of going to Half Price Book Store 30 minutes before there 7AM opening. Stood in like with other book loving fools to get a $5 gift card, a tote bag and a chance to win a $100 gift card. Needless to say, I did not get the $100 card, but I did get some good deals on poetry books and of course the $5 card.

I confess that my wife and I love going to book stores. Call us weird but we sometimes plan a bookstore trip as a

date.

I confessed I saw what I thought would be a really good movie to watch on Net Flicks and recommended it it my wife not realizing it was French with subtitles. The movie The Intouchables turns out to be about a rather stuffy well-to do invalid in France who finds his life enriched by a black man from the Paris ghettos. Surprisingly after it started and we realized it was subtitled she agreed to stick with it and it turned out to be a very enjoyable movie. Of late, there has been a bit of a joke about my movie choices for movie night.  I think my movie choice privileges have been perilously closed to revocation.

On thanksgiving I scored both turkey wings this year. I don't know if I no one else really wanted them or if they were afraid to grab them for fear of my wrath. Let it be known I did not smack down two wings on Thanksgiving. No, I had one as a leftover on the weekend. I totally believe the wings are the best part of a turkey or chicken for that matter. If someone were to ask me to describe my idea of the best hybrid turkey of chicken it look like two big wings on legs with a beak.

Well, I'm about confessed out. Wishing you all a safe week ahead and all the happiness you can handle.

Amen~



 

Lines That Caught My Eye

These are a few lines that I came in contact with this week that could have come from poems or interviews, articles, etc. - but in each case they caught my attention for one reason or another.  It may be because the lines are particularly profound in my own eyes, or because they are lines (we all have them) that we wish we had written, or because they particularly speak to me about writing and poetry.


1.  I want to move figuratively, as waves caress the thoughtless shore - John Ashberry 

2  Our job as poets is to make new what may be old and unoriginal. - Deborah Ager

3. I'm in the mood for a bust-up at the farmer's market, Rachel Maddow is so over me, and you too Pacific Northwest, admit it. - Melissa Broder 

4. A thing too perfect to be remembered: stone beautiful only when wet. - Jane Hirshfield 

5. I am a part of all that I have met. To you, all, whether or not you know, having wandered into the tissue of my life, and out again, you have left a momentary part of you which I will work into something. -Sylvia Plath - Journals

Confession Tuesday on Thanksgivukkah

I'm cheating here a bit - It's been a week and two days since my last confession so I'm combining my Confession Tuesday with My Thanksgiving Blessings (of what am I thankful for) and because it's Hanukkah as well a tribute to my Jewish friends.

Dear Reader:

I confess that I almost did my Confession Tuesday on time but a part of me was holding back to do it on thanksgiving. Another part of me was feeling kind of yucky so it was just as easy to put it off as not. Okay, it was actually easier at the time. (this is a confession post).

I have Type II diabetes and after battling with some higher numbers lately I saw my doctor and we changed one of my oral medications for a three week trial. The change has in fact brought my numbers down dramatically and on a couple occasions I've had major drops in the numbers to critical levels. So physically my body has been through a lot readjusting this week, That's on top of an especially busy week at the office. I was in the middle of one of those yucky feeling  moods Tuesday night so that made the decision seem so easy to wait with the confession.

Thanksgiving is a difficult holiday for me because it is so food orientated.  I recall one year maybe the first or second year post diagnosis I left the table in the middle of the meal in tears. That hasn't happened since, but I confess that I do find it hard and at times I have thrown caution to the wind.

As I have gotten older I've come to realize why diabetes is a silent killer. You can go through of life absorbing  much of the discomfort and at some point realize the toll it has taken on the body.

So I confess, that today I want to look at Thanksgiving beyond the food. I want to look at it as a break from the office work. I'm thankful for both my job and breaks from it.

As I will see all but one of my children today, I am thankful for my family. I'm thankful for there tolerance (after all I'm a poet),  their love, their support.

I'm thankful for our family pets - they are a wonderful example of unconditional love.

I'm thankful for health-care and I confess that I look forward to the day when we as a nation truly recognize access to quality health care as not something only for the privileged.

I'm thankful that I have found writing as a source of strength. I'm thankful for my wife Cathy for so many reasons, not the least of which is how supportive she is of my writing.

I'm thankful for many writer-friends, some local and some not so local that also provide support and encouragement. I confess that I truly believe that writers need other writers.

I could go on with a list of so many blessings that's I'd be here all day. I think I can sum much of it up that I realize that I was born into a land of great abundance and wealth. While not all Americans are rich economically, we do have so much more then the rest of the world. There are others ways to be rich, and I am thankful that my family and I do experience many of them daily.

To all my friends, I wish you all the blessings of a happy life. To my Jewish friends - a very happy Hanukkah.

Be safe - have a lovely day, and moderation to all!

Sing To My Eyes....

“Painting is the silence of thought and the music of sight.”  ~ Orhan Pamuk

Confession Tuesday - Headless Edition

Dear Readers:

It's been one week, a week of blowing leaves, naked trees, feeling tired and losing my head all since my last confession. 

I confess that  several nights this past week I came home from work and crashed into bed and slept for a while before I could do anything. I've battled some high blood sugar numbers which I suspect had something to do with this. I made a change on my medication and things seem better now. Numbers have been excellent today. 

I do think the combination of higher numbers and the normal seasonal blues have cut back on my functionality post work. I've have very busy/productive days at the office but as soon as I arrive home it just seems like it's been easier to just let it all go to hell. If anything has suffered, it's been my writing at home. 

Twice this week I confess that I basically  lost my head after work. Monday I got on the highway and was almost all the way home and I realized I left the bag in which I keep my medicine and my glucose monitor in at the office. I turned around and drove all the way back downtown to retrieve it.  Tonight, I was in the parking lot and I thought I left my phone on my desk, so I trudged back in and was going up on the elevator when I realized that when I had felt me pocket and realized it was not there I did not take into account it was in my other hand with my planner. At least I didn't make a trip like Monday, I just returned to the parking lot and went home. 

As you can see, at quitting time my head has truly shut down the past two nights.  I'm debating  if I will even write tonight after  this post. 

The K.C. Chiefs lost this weekend to the Denver Broncos. A fact that has has sent many at work over the edge. Some feel the the team that was 9-0 for the season is now doomed. It's amusing the fatalism that many people in this city have. It's kind of like the team has been so bad the last couple of years that they can't believe the season is for real. I refuse to get high or low over this situation. I confess I prefer to remain indifferent. I'm like the poster child for apathy. Am I bad for this? 

Till next week.... hang on to your head. Don't be like me.   

The Mag 194

The Letter

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

Distance is measured
by lustful thoughts-
I cannot help.

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

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



Michael A. Wells


The Mag 194

The Case Against Broad Government Surveillance

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

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

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

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

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

The report goes on....

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confession Tuesday - Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory Edition

 I'm off to the confessional...

Dear reader:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen!

The Mag 193

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas

 The Ballerina's Private Warm Up

She feels the constriction 

of a cocoon and the solitude- 

therein lies the crystalline craving 

to spin herself free.

A twirl to unwind- to whip-up

the motion to unclog the black and white

all around her-  she wishes for wind

she wishes for a spin-off of gale force

to extricate her from this morose.

She rises on her toes - shaky first

then in a solid stance her arms rise 

overhead with poise a momentary pause.

There is no music, except that alone

in her head- the composition

comes with spontaneity 

Is a powerful turn 

she thrusts herself into a running leap,

long legs scissor in defiance of gravity

then another, and a third

with a solid land- quickly

rising again to a pointe

she spins again 

shaking free of the grayness

her heart pounding

her chest heaves 

as she drops down

arms collapse to the floor

head bowing supplication...

Michael A. Wells

The Mag 193

  

In Memory of Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton November 9,1928 - October 4, 1974

All day I've built

a lifetime and now

the sun sinks to 

undo it.

The horizon bleeds

and sucks its thumb.

From The Fury of Sunsets

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

Let The Day Begin

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

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

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

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

The Poetry of Baseball

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

The Mag 192

Resurrection Reunion 2 - Sir Stanley Spencer

Resurrection Dance

They shake out bugs

the webs

the claustrophobia

the ground  above

has opened

dark loam scattered

among sharp green blades

They link hands

rediscovering touch

 kick up their heels

circle and shout
they are all out!



Michael A. Wells


The Mag