It's potpourri Wednesday....

I've had a habit of blogging about a variety of things on Wednesdays in the past. Nothing set in stone, but for some reason... middle of the week or whatever, I often talk about little tid-bits here and there on this day. So I have decided that Wednesday should be potpourri day. So I'll throw a mixture of fragrance out into the blogisphere.

According to the Voice of America - (isn't that kind of like our version of Pravda?)
Shiite and Kurdish leaders hope an 11th hour breakthrough will lead to Sunni support
at the polls for the Iraqi draft constitution. I'm trying to picture us here in America going to the polls in two days to vote on a document that people are still changing. Would that be like the ultimate example of blind faith?

~o~

So reporter Juddith Miller makes a second appearance before a Grand Jury [according to Reuters] to testify about her conversation with Cheney's chief of staff, Lewis Libby. Her notes taken of the conversation reference Joseph Wilson, covert CIA operative Valerie Plame's diplomat husband. My guess is they have broken out the Church fans at the White House.

~o~

Last night - KC Metro Verse met at the WriterHouse - Eight local poets - a lot of poems - Apple Crisp - coffee - did I mention Apple Crisp? We had a newbie show up - that is always nice.

~o~

My wife is like this marvelous bead artist - I've had pictures of her work here before. Oh hell, it is worth another look:




That is one I especially like.

Anyway I told her yesterday that I had a dream the night before that we collaborated on a poem. She smiles and said that was not a dream that was a nightmare. Badaboom!

~o~

Stick Poet's most recent stats suggest we have a very nice international following.

57.45% United States
14.94% Norway
11.49% Canada
3.45% United Kingdom
3.45% India
2.30% Australia
2.30% Poland
2.30% Unknown *
1.15% Germany
1.15% Georgia **

* someone is flying under the radar
** I am guessing this is the Georgia that was formerly a part of the Soviet Union.


~o~

Quote for the Day

"I write to understand as much as to be understood. Literature is an act of conscience. It is up to us to rebuild with memories, with ruins, and with moments of grace." - Elie Wiesel

This I Believe

I believe everyone should believe in something, which is why I believe in myself.
I believe war is a byproduct of people who give up too easy.
I believe barbecue is all that!
I believe everyone should be educated – even if that requires teaching yourself.
I believe people should always be able to buy a book they want.
I believe poetry and baseball are both religious experiences.
I believe the best armies are ones with no weapons.
I believe a woman should be president someday - soon.
I believe resisting war is a higher calling than fighting one.
I believe football should be played by refrigerators.
I believe all vegetarians secretly dream of growing up to be meat eaters.
I believe children of Democrats play with Tinker Toys, while children of Republicans play with Lincoln Logs.
I believe no one should have to whisper in a library.
I believe the designated hitter should be outlawed.
I believe if you are good, you go to Starbucks when you die.
I believe no one should be indifferent to indifference.
I believe they should let Charlie Brown pitch for Christ's sake – just for the other team.
I believe women should wear high heels with dresses if they want to… and they should all want to.
I believe the fact that my coffee cup is secure is proof enough the earth is flat.
I believe self indulgence is very self-indulging.
I believe coffee is a food group.
I believe kisses should be long… really long.
I believe Diet Coke is the Real Thing.
I believe everyone should be able to take three mental wellness days from work or school each month.
I believe anyone who fails to use all three mental wellness days in a month should have them roll over into sick days and be taken immediately, for they must be sick.
I believe that love not only makes the world go round but also keeps us from crashing into other planets.
I believe we all should be afraid of Virginia Woolf – Really afraid!
I believe Chardonnay is another food group.
I believe somewhere there is an unpublished Robert Frost poem, “Freezing Your Ass off On A Snowy New England Evening.”
I believe in God and I believe I am a testament to his sense of humor.

Poetry god - with a small g

I was reading this weekend and something jumped off the page at me. A translation by Mlymori Asataro of the Japanese poet Ochi-Naobumi 1861-1903:

"When I wake up alone
at dead of night
and muse on verse-making,
Even I am god"

At the risk of sounding both sacrilegious or egocentric, (neither a condition I feel at home with) I do indeed feel that I have experienced this myself and can totally understand how other poets including the author, could grasp this concept. Yes, I have at times waken up in the dead of night with some creative birth pains crying to be released onto a page. I think most of us have all learned it best at these times to at least make some note of the thoughts least they be lost forever in the tangles of life the next morning.

Occasionally I have set about flushing out the thoughts into form on a page in the night. I may not be physically alone... Cathy asleep next to me in the bed, but I will ever so quietly (as you do not dare wake the Mrs.) pick up my journal an pen
(usually on the floor or stand next to the bed) and write by the dimmest of light from the nightstand. It is at these times I am that poet alone with creation. It is at these times even I (the poet)am/is god.


poetics

Untitled

This poem is lacking
No matter how much effort
Something is missing
Beyond reach
This poem wanted
Something unattainable

Alone With No Shadow

I took a shadow for a walk
A dark reflection of myself
Sometimes long
Sometimes short
Sometimes nowhere to be found
It is then I am most alone

That was neutering

You Are 50% Boyish and 50% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

The Will to Tinker

Wednesday night I was at a workshop that was sponsored by the KC Public Library & Branching Out. The two poets conducting the workshop were Glenn North and Stacey Tolbert.

The workshop was worthwhile. I especially enjoyed North's poetry that was shared at the event. However, what I really wanted to focus on here was something that Stacey Tolbert recommended to me in an one-on-one break-out session.

We were looking at a poem of mine that had been written some time back. I had several with me and the one I chose for this purpose was a poem that won second place in a statewide contest earlier this year. As it turned out, I think this was an especially good selection. I suspect we all have pieces that we get so strongly attached to that we have a hard time messing with them any further. For the purpose of this post I'll call it a poem we are married to. It has that special attachment that you just don't want to think about rewriting anymore. Anyway... This was clearly a poem that I was married to. We all have them. Probably several. The fact that it did well in a contest even adds to the dilemma. You already have reached a point that you have stopped rewriting it. You sent it off. If was published or recognized in contest or both. This has now compounded the matter. You thought it was finally what you wanted. Then, someone else validates your feeling that this is really great. Then someone in a workshop says, "What if..."

Well, this is two days later and I am exploring the notion that it might not really be so sacrilegious to take her advise. So starting tomorrow, I'm going to look at this same poem from a different perspective. Each day for the next week, I am going to look at trying to say the same thing differently.

Stacey for example thought the two last lines of the poem were so powerful. But she wondered for example what would happen if instead of ending the poem with them, I chose to start with those two lines. Well, I don't know how I'll feel abut what I have five days from now, but I will look at each day creating one new version of this same poem.

poetry