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

Finding the Poems You Never Knew You Had

Think of it as a Kick-Starter. The dynamic writing duo of Kelli Russell Agodon and Martha Silano have created a tool that that can prime the ink of any writer. The Daily Poet is chucked full of opportunity, just add yourself to the mix.

The idea for this book came about as a result of Agodon and Silano sharing writing prompts over a period of time. Recognizing the value of this practice to each of their own creative efforts they decided to produce a volume of prompts that will guide a writer through 365 days of spark that can ignite many new poems in the process.

I don’t know if it was planned this way but the timing of the release of The Daily Poet is perfect. In advance of the holidays this book is an ideal gift for the writers in your life. In addition, it is excellent fuel for anyone who might be looking for a realistic approach to a new year’s resolution to write more. With this book you can commit to daily writing and never worry as you sit down – “How am I going to start?”

Each prompt is a trigger to something inside, something waiting to be told.  I’ve reviewed the contents of this book  and tried several of the prompts myself. Any writer regardless of level of experience can find value in these exercises. While there are so many wonderful ideas among them,  a few of my favorite prompts area:

• January 12 – Letter To An Artist
• July 27 – Grateful Dead
• October 13 – Who’s Afraid of Any Author?
• December 8 – Letter to An Abstract Noun
• May 25 – Taboo You
• January 22 – Couplet Lost

Of course you’ll have to get your own copy of this prompt packed book to see for yourself the details of these fabulous exercises and no doubt you will have your own favorites.

I see this as an investment in writing exercises for many years over as you can use the same prompt at different times and find it will take you different places.  It's my recommendation that you add it to your own library and enjoy the journey.


The Daily Poet
Authors: Kelli Russell Agodon & Martha Silano
Published by: Two Sylvias Press

Available in paperback and ebook

Confession Tuesday on Wednesday

Dear Reader:

It’s been 8 days, two rejection letters, a flat tire and a novel finished reading since my last confession. I’m cranking this out at lunch time so let’s going to the confessional.

I confess I’ve over the unplanned expense of a new tire. I was over the rejection letters as soon as I read them. I don’t dwell on work rejected. I always consider that in order to have work accepted I am going to get rejections so I expect that I will be told no many times and that getting a no means there is a yes coming soon.

This time of year is odd because I enjoy the cooler weather. I don’t like extreme cold but we get some pretty nice fall days. Then there are the rainy ones like today when the coolness and the overcast skies tend to bring you down a bit. I confess days like today I want to stay home and under the covers. Of course I don’t do that but the thought is nice.

It seems like any more it’s always cold and rainy on Halloween here so if today Xeroxes itself for tomorrow it will be right in style. I confess that while I realize Halloween has become almost as much an adult holiday as it is for children, I or we’ve never every gotten into the adult dress-up party mode and so the day seems rather remote for us.We have dressed up the dogs a time or two but that’s usually been with the help of one or another of my daughters.

Speaking of help and daughter, I left work last night to go to the new home of one of my daughters to help her with the hookup of a washer. I had only been to the house twice and one of those times I did not drive and I didn’t come from downtown so I was trying to get there as direct and quickly as I could in rush hour traffic. I used voice input to put the address into my phone GPS and what should have been the number 68 was understood to be sixty or 60.  I confess I was nearly to the 60 destination before I realized it did not hear 68. I pulled over and restated the address. Again it read it as 60. I tried again annunciating v e r y   s l o w l y and it heard something else altogether that was not a number. I confess at this point I was about as angry as one can get with an inanimate object. This was disturbing to me as I realized how unbecoming it was. No one else was in the car but it did incense my own sensibilities that I was so angry over this. I finally typed it in after numerous voice attempts all failed. I though what a jerk this person is in the car…  I confess he’s not coming along next time.