What's Going On...

Two days in a row - here to blog. I've been lax / busy, call it what you will lately and haven done good to average 2-3 posts a week in recent months. So I guess this is what we'd call a streak!


Yesterday I had a rejection letter for four poems I had sent out.  This morning, three more went out in submission.  Another submission will likely go out later today. I'm trying to (and succeeding) maintain a much more aggressive submission schedule this year.


Poetic Happenings around the Internet:


Saturn's may have hidden seas by Christine Klocek-Lim appears in Astropoetica


A new trend in the internal civil unrest in the Middle East is Arab on Arab violence. Nobel Peace Prize winner Hanan Ashrawi’s poetry paints a picture  of the contemporary unrest.


This poetry is not an ornament to the uprising — it is its soundtrack and also composes a significant part of the action itself...

Terrance Hayes coming to Kansas City in March!

This week I downloaded a "New Letters" audio interview with poets Terrance Hayes & Yona Harvey - husband and wife poets. I listened to the interview on my Blackberry during my drive into town. I was so taken by these two poets that when I received a card the next day from the University of Missouri Kansas City that Terrance had been Named as the 2011 Cockefair  Chair  Writer-in-Residence and would be reading at the University on March 7th, I was excited. To top that off,  was able to snag a spot to attend the his Master Class in Poetry Writing on Sunday, March 6th. By this time I was clicking my heels!

Hayes is quiet spoken but with a powerful range and creative talent for language.  I've read a few of his poems in the past - but hearing him read is even more powerful. Yona too strikes me very much the same way yet each has a distinctive voice. They are a lot alike, yet at the same time very different.

The Master class is three hours long. Did I mention I'm very excited?

Confession Tuesday

Though I’m not certain where I am going with this, it is Tuesday and therefore confession time. It’s been almost a week since my last. I say almost because I was late. But let’s not dwell on that. To the confessional we go.

Dear Reader:

I’m punctual today. This is a good thing. Not just with confession but I confess that being on time can be a positive experience that improves your outlook about other things. I’m not saying it’s a world changer, but a few more positive vibes cannot hurt.

~

I confess that there have been times when people have said Hi! How are you doing? My reply would be something like – Tired, or beat, or feeling lousy. But at some point it occurred to me that people don’t really want to know that you are feeling like crap… It’s simply an opening to a friendly exchange.

I’ve decided I’m not a country western singer, so “Hi, How are you?” is not something you respond to with, “I found my Parrot dead on the floor of his cage this morning, the trash truck ran over a fire hydrant and flooded my basement, before backing into my BMW. I’ve got a migraine and I got the news my mutt knocked up the neighbor’s prize poodle and is threatening to sue. Thanks for asking!”

~

I’ve been dog sitting this week for my son. While I’ve seen my wife each day, and I do get a good deal of reading and writing done, I have really missed her in the evenings. Bouts of melancholy especially on Sunday didn’t help. I confess that I spent a lot of time reflecting on our early years together. I had a couple of dreams one overnight Friday were I dreamed of Sylvia Plath, but one Saturday night were we (wife and I) were very young (children like young) but all of our scenes in the dream we were in adult mode.

I confess I have this type of dream often. I confess I have no idea what it means.

~

Mid February is when pitchers and catchers report to spring training. Usually five to seven days ahead of the other players. I confess there is a bit of a spring in my step when this happens.

Thanks for stopping by. Hope all your steps have a spring to them too.  Have a great week!

Funding Creativity

Kelli Agodon has an interesting post today about Kickstarter. According to their web site, they're the largest funding platform for creative projects in the world. 

This strikes me as really intriguing because just this week the Governor of our neighboring state (Kansas) issued an executive order ending the State's Art Commission. It's a battle that may not be over because many are pushing the legislature to intervene.  Still, it is a sign that many state funded Arts Commissions may be in for bumpy roads ahead.

But looking at the site, Kickstarter offers a platform for small projects that be below the level of some Arts foundations as well as some larger ones. On one page I saw a project that was looking for over $70,000 and another for just over $400 so their is a bit of variety.

People can scan through the projects and find one or more that interest and pledge a dollar amount to help fund the project. It can be as little as $1.  If the project fails to reach it's goal, no funds are transferred - your pledge is not honored. Only if and when the project becomes fully funded are the funds withdrawn from your account. Amazon acts as the middle man for the sake of collecting the funds.

To my wonderful wife Cathy
    All My Love....
On Valentine's Day
& Every Day....







And a Happy Valentine's Day to everyone!

Magpie Tales 52 - Poem: It looks inviting but it's just a house.

It looks inviting but it's just a house.
Let me tell you about a house-

Past the curtains into the living room
where white upholstered seating
was primarily for company       while free
to come and go-    those were the days
when we were to be seen
cheeks pinched
bragged about in one form
or another but heavens no
add nothing to the conversation.

Upstairs was the safest place,
a room with a bunk bed I shared
with no one.    My trappings were many
and they were my comfort.
In the back was a window I shared
with the world-   an array of bumper stickers
shouting silently my views.
They were not the same as the management.

The kitchen below was by contrast
the most communal of all the rooms.
Around the table the balance of power
seemed most evident and it was there
I felt as though I was a wedge issue
based upon the parenting being done
and by whom the orders were administered.

There were chilly political discussions
back then Nixon was the one
but he really wasn't.    From time to time
there was the "N" word.  It was during these
times, the off color jokes that I felt most
uncomfortable about and not my posture
which was also a hot topic as well
as if I was finishing my dinner- leaving
a clean plate before I could go.
That was a battle I would eventually win.
Time was on my side.  But there were times
as well when my punishment was to stand back
against the kitchen print on the wall and become
one with it... to solve all my posture problems.
It didn't.

The enclosed back porch, the family room
with bar that was never used as such- 
and only in time for the moon landing
did it become home for our TV-
these rooms were cold, but not the kind
of chill that the kitchen had.

The dining room seemed majestic
at the time with built in china cabinets
I learned had been perfect for hiding
newly arrived letters from paternal grandmother
before their destruction.  Beamed ceiling,
natural oak that had been painted
but brought back to life.

The dining room was for formal
meals and entertaining      and fakery.
Playing normal and enjoying mom's
white yeast rolls and butter.

Thinking back these rooms
fan out to form an array
of memories.  Sometimes
it is better their ornamental
view is closed into one ivory stick.

I left the day after graduation.

2011© Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 52

Strange

At approximately 2:30 a.m. I was awaken and strangely my thoughts were of Sylvia Plath.  At first I thinking how strange this is the anniversary of her death until I realized that it was the morning of the 12th and she died February 11th, a fact that had escaped me yesterday.

Then it dawned on me how strange the poem draft I wrote last night (see below) and the ghosts of writers.

Feeling a little bit of twilight zone here.

Rest in Peace Sylvia...