Wear sunglasses to the post office...

Quiet Saturday morning- sometimes quiet is good. Sometimes the silence echoes reverberate empty.

I generally never want the weekends to end, but sometimes I wish they would hurry along into another phase. It's a contradiction I know.

The picture with this post was taken a few weeks back - it is a courtyard behind a bank in downtown Kansas City. I took it on a lunch stroll. I think of it as water art.

Finished reading a novel last night. I've produced some small written pieces this week that I am happy with and they really did for the most part come without feeling like I had to squeeze them from a near empty tube of words.

Best quote I saw this week was advice from Dana Goodyear - one of the 18 debut poets of 2005 that were featured in Poets & Writers.

"Wear sunglasses to the post office. In other words, try to protect yourself from other people's disbelief."

Washing Your Back

I squeezed water
To a fine trickle
That splashed
And breathed
Bubbles
The
Long
Sleek
Contour
Of your
Back
Till
It
Hit
Water
And carried a touch of your fragrance to the ocean

Can Just Anyone Be One?

Should there be a test? Would it have both an oral and written portion?
Could there be a learners permit? Would we have to re-test every so often?
What would the punishment be for poeting without a license? Should bad poets have to register with the state and be prohibited from living a certain distance from academia?

The Payoff of Hard Work

New Poets & Writers magazine arrived yesterday... I saw where Victoria Chang (who formerly had a blog I would read frequently) made a list of 18 debut poets who made their mark in 2005. Very nice piece on her and her work.

Interesting factoids from the writeup on her:

She spent 10 years writing the book CIRCLE.
She entered some 30 to 45 contests.
She won the Crab Orchard Series in Poetry Open Competition Award.


Influences were listed at Rainer Maria Rilkem, Elizabeth Bishop, Sylvia Plath, Larry Levis and Brigit Pegeen Kelly.

One thing that really struck me was the amount of time each of these poets spent in writing their respective books. The longest being 11 years - but the average seemed to be just under six and a half years.

Anyway it was a really nice article and I would imagine she must be quite honored by making this list in addition to the previous honors bestowed upon her for the book.

Potpourri Wednesday Again

Hello to Bergen, Norway!


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Magnetic Poetry Sparks Creativity - and Smiles - with Gifts for Everyone on Your List.

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Ivy spills the goods on the BLURB. Thinking I need a Miss Blinda Blurb to pose on my chapbook.

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This is where I am tapping my foot waiting for a slightly overdue response to a submission. I say slightly overdue because they have had this group of poems longer than usual. Can't you just feel the impatience?

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The Maine Arts Commission is accepting nominations for Maine's next Poet Laureate.

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In David Citino's poem "And So" he wrote "And so you called, weeping, to tell me this because you know of the compulsion we share to write." Citino, an English professor and Ohio State University's poet laureate, had died from complications related to multiple sclerosis. Citino was 58.

Hello Quincy!

Just saying hello to Quincy, Massachusetts - a random place from stick poets hits stats. Evidently someone in Quincy visited stick poet this week.

Outside the continental U.S. was a hit from Richmond Hill in Ontario - Canada.

Wahoo!

You all com back now... (I know... a Yankee just can't do that right)

The prompt: And his tongue was...

So I'm thinking- and thinking- and W came to my mind.



W

And his tongue was forked
His pronouncements
Always mired in
Slick black sleaze;
You knew immediately
He was fucking with you.


poetry Bush