Confession Tuesday

Lots to talk about this week so let's get started...  To the Confessional!


Dear Reader:

On Sunday I had the good fortune to participate in a Master Class workshop conducted by Terrance Hayes who UMKC brought in an then there was a Reading at Katz Hall on the campus Monday night. The workshop was a very well spent three hours.  Then Monday night I drove back into town for the Reading and confess that I was very disappointed that the room was packed. Okay, I was glad they had a great turnout, but was disappointed that there was not better planning for the reading. We're talking about Terrance Hayes!   Room 101 at Katz Hall was way too small for a draw like Hayes. Even the standing room was pretty well full. Given the room situation and my long day at work I was not up to standing through the event.

~0~

I can't believe how fast the year seems off to. March already?  An here we are Ash Wednesday tomorrow and St Patrick's Day a little over a week away.  I Love St. Patrick's Day! I love green, I love shamrocks, I love Corned Beef and Cabbage! My confirmation name? Yep... Patrick!

In spite of the fact that it's the night before Ash Wednesday, I have yet to decide what my Lenten project will be this year. Will I give up (sacrifice) something or commit to something proactive? Decisions - decisions. I confess I simply don't know yet. And to complicate matters I was enticed to check out the 101 Practical Fasting Ideas for Lent that Kelli Agodon posted on her site. Some great ideas - I confess feeling like a kid in a candy store who gets to pick out one item. Just one item!  Well, I have the night to sleep on it.

~0~

Terresa Wellborn who blogs at the Chocolate Chip Waffle ( I love that title!) blogged on marginalia  [scribbles, comments, and illuminations in the margins of a book] the other day and it got me to thinking about the act.  I confess that I've engaged in the act, but do not do it regularly. I suppose one reason is that many of my poetry books are in fact autographed by the poet and it just seems to create a barrier to me writing in the book. I do make very frequent notations in my journal but I confess I'd like to feel free to do it anytime... all the time!  There is something really intriguing about the idea of picking up a book and seeing the thoughts of other people in the margins. I confess that the thought others might find mine of interest at some point lingers in my psyche. But alas, I remain conflicted about doing this.

Well, I'm going to close now in a state of indecision... to write in margins or not?  What to do for Lent?

My your week have plenty of direction! 

Magpie Tales 55 - Poem: Untitled

There were sharp points of ambiguity
forked thoughts parting on a less traveled hunch


improvised explosive devices on the kitchen table
landscape of miscellaneous utensils and surgical drop cloths
between salt and pepper and adjacent to some Tupperware
thingy empty with after factory burp     the lid some distance
away from the scene


ruptured pustules perhaps corpuscles maybe a spread
of jam gone array                   smudges and prints
cluttered the site          and fingered a suspect

2011 © Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales

Diligence Pays Off

In writing diligence is a word that needs to be added to the formula often offered as a key to success - read often, write often and rewrite. Add to that diligence as it relates to submitting. Dresser drawers of poem drafts are not the typical recipe for achieving publication. Yes, it worked for Emily Dickinson, but she didn't live to see the success.

Last night I received an acceptance letter on one of my submissions. I have a piece that will be appearing in Right Hand Pointing in April. I enjoy Right hand Pointing, not because they have accepted work of mine before, but because the editor, Dale Wisely almost always pulls together work that really interests me.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have more submissions to plan.

Tuesday Confession

Tuesday evening and I'm finally sitting down to put together this weeks confession.   Follow me to the confessional....                

Dear Reader: It's been a week since we last did this and I've a few things to confess. February has come to a close. I planned to do four new submissions this past month and on the 28th of the month I got the 4th and final one for February out. **Yeah!** That means for two months in a row I have actually met or exceeded my submission goals. Submissions had become drudgery in the past couple of years so this is a really positive thing. **clicking my heels... Yeah!**

~

I confess that sometimes in the evening I can hear the whistle of a distant locomotive. I Just now heard it. I confess that this is a sound I love. I don't necessarily recall hearing it every night but when it comes to my attention it is almost like clockwork. My grandfather was a railroad man and I always think of my grandfather and grandmother when I think of trains. I used to ride a train on many weekends to go visit them as a youngster. As a result I confess hearing the train triggers a whole host of feelings, tastes, and scents associated with them. The smell of Violets on the side of their home. The taste of fried perch or blue gill, watermelon, homemade doughnuts. Grandpa's tall and quiet stature. The way he would always do dishes when he was home from the railroad work. Grandma stopping on summer afternoons to get us popsicles. Loved the banana yellow ones. I could go on and on.

~

I confess that I have a grave concern that we (United States) are headed down a road to class warfare. The disparity between as the top 1-3% of wealthy are growing in obscene proportion to the rest of the people. Middle class families are dropping lower and lower in comparison. Their buying power is taking a big hit. Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge people earning money but the CEO's earnings and corporate earnings are coming at the expense of the vast majority of Americans and the grow and grow and contribute so little in return. It is not farfetched to imagine the kind of mass rejection of our corporate hierarchy - much the way we saw the people in Egypt reject 30 + years of neglectful rule by their government. It could happen. **sigh**

~

I confess that I cracked up this past week when a 7 year old nephew visiting us, spoke up as my wife and I were watching  "Hot in Cleveland" when the word sex was spoken in a sentence on the show, "Aunt Cathy, I think this is inappropriate for me."  Can he even define inappropriate?  I laughed my ass off.

That's it for this week. May the rest of your be happy and stress free.   See you next week!

Magpie Tales # 54 - Poem: Title Forgotten

Title Forgotten

You are pieces of places
remote in my mind
puzzling and forced

into blank spaces
black holes in time
splintered edges

people of vagueness
foggy names
fuzzy going blank

what was I going to say
what were we talking
about?
 

2011 © Michael A. Wells

 
Magpie Tales

Not the Cover I'd Choose for a Book of Mine

The book that is bound to horrify: 160-year-old poetry volume is covered in skin of hanged murderer


Details

Enough Suspense Already....

On Monday I reported that I had some exciting news from over the weekend without offering specifics. Some have asked me if this news involves a book and while the answer to this is unfortunately no, I can however tell you that it is none the less the most exciting news I've had for quite some time.
 
Sunday, I learned that two of my poems were selected to inspire work by Jennifer Rivera, a talented abstract painter who is preparing for a poetry themed gallery showing at the Apex Art Space in the Crossroads District in Kansas City. For those not local, the Crossroads District has become the premier hub for art in the metropolitan area. "Synesthesia" will run for two months. My poems will appear along with the final paintings. She has selected work from a number of poets, some local and some from other parts of the country.
 
Jennifer has some awesome paintings! You can see a portfolio of her art and learn more about her at her web site. This is so exciting because I love abstract art in all forms. Having seen pictures of her work I am thrilled at the prospect of what she will produce in response to my poems.
 
Closer to the event I'll provide details about the dates and times of the showing. Of course it would be exciting to see a lot of my friends on the opening night, but for two months people will get an opportunity to see all of the poetry inspired work of Jennifer's.



* photo insert Jennifer Rivera

Confession Tuesday

I'm tired and I still want to read before turning in for the night but I want to fulfill my Tuesday duty so please come along to the confessional.


Dear Reader:

Today was a day that I was crazy busy but alas I confess few of my priority tasks were checked off my to do list. I have days like that because my work can be so crisis driven that the best of planning sometimes just will not work. Grrr!

It's not a new thing and I've had to learn to live with it. Sometimes it's frustrating enough to want to cast planning to the wind but I don't. Here's to more check offs tomorrow.

~

I was thinking this morning how strange it is to think as spring training is underway that the Giants will be starting the season as defending World Series champions and how different that is from the perception many had of the team's chances going into last the start of the season last year.  Many sports commentators thought the Giants were maybe like perhaps a third place team in their division.  First spring training game is this Friday against the D-Backs. I confess it feels like a heavy weight for the team going onto this season and being the defending champion. I will try to be the good fan and keep an optimistic outlook.

~

Sometimes I feel like pushing my creativity in different directions. A couple years ago I tried doing some charcoal sketching.  I confess that I'm not really very talented at this but I enjoyed trying to see various things and people through sketch.  I thought I would allow my to observe things from a different perspective. I still think this is a good idea, but admittedly I haven't done any for a while.  I think I'd like to be able to do sketches of people. I also love photographs of people taken as when they are doing things and appear totally unaware of the shot being taken. Little moments where they seem self absorbed in something.

~

I confess I'd like to have a pint of black walnut ice cream right now. Ok, I confess I'd really like more than a pint. ;)

~

Until next time, I hope you have some sweetness to your week!

I'm SO Excited!

Hail to the Chief!  President's Day off~

I've written, hobbled around on a sore knee, alternated heat and ice on it, and otherwise had a quiet day off.  At some point I need to do laundry and will probably try a relaxing bath. But while I've had a quiet day, I remain very excited about some news that came my way yesterday. I will not go into detail just yet, but I can tell you it's good news and it has to do with poetry. I did get a rejection letter over the weekend from Rattle but trust me, this makes up for it and then some.  Stay tuned for the details!

Magpie Tales 53 Poem: SHAKER

SHAKER



Sculpted by subtraction
precise patterns
sliced in the ice
of class Czech glass
cubed mathematically
and crowned with sterling
to set upon a table
to the distraction
of surroundings


2011 © Michael A. Wells



Magpie Tales 53

Your Attention Please - Is the ability to focus overrated?

I was reading a Wall Street Journal article in their Life and Culture section about attention and distractibality.  The article presented infomation from several studies that support there are perhaps benefits to be associated with distractability.

So all those times I was caught daydreaming in class... was that really such a bad thing?

...scientists have begun to outline the surprising benefits of not paying attention. Sometimes, too much focus can backfire; all that caffeine gets in the way. For instance, researchers have found a surprising link between daydreaming and creativity—people who daydream more are also better at generating new ideas. Other studies have found that employees are more productive when they're allowed to engage in "Internet leisure browsing" and that people unable to concentrate due to severe brain damage actually score above average on various problem-solving tasks.

The aeticle points out that the studies (and there were several mentioned) all involve college students and while they are revealing, they do not taken into account the challenges children facing ADHD experiance in school or the impact upon those who fail to graduate from high school.


Does distraction provide positive opportunities and lead to greater open-mindedness? What do you think?

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...

Ghosts

The gurgle of the washing machine,
the laminate film upon my post dinner
teeth chattering as Friday reverses
itself like a retro jacket
that offers two color options
only I cannot choose;
I only have Friday night
at my disposal-


I have a plate, a fork & spoon,
and two pans to wash
and the whole night ahead.
I am only slightly cloistered.
The TV is there and another
in the living room and still
another in the family room.
And so many channels-
and nothing I want
to watch.


In the end, I will battle
between book and journal.
Read or write.
It is in this solitude
I sense the ghosts
of so many
long gone
writers.

The Month of Love

An afternoon sun is unsuccessful in curtailing my chill that continues. This is so unlike me~  **sigh**   Supposedly it has reached 35 outside. Maybe that's my problem... I'm inside.

I've had a vacation day from the office, reading a book as well as ruminating about the chatter the past couple days of the Claudia Rankine/Tony Hoagland matter.  The latter has my head spinning. 


It's the month of LOVE and if you haven't seen it already there's a series of PDF print and Cut Valentines here  courtesy of the American Academy of Poets.

I've been getting Gretchen Rubin's daily "Happiness Project E-mails" for a while now and the other day I got this one that I just love:

"One of the best and fastest ways of acquiring knowledge is to insist on remaining ignorant about things that aren't worth knowing."

— Sydney Harris

And another thing I picked up from her site was the SIX WORD MEMOIR.   Another version of this - Six Words on Happiness.  A few that were on her site that I liked...

• Reading the last page of "Mockingbird."
• paying toll for the person behind me
• with my six I declare love

Confession Tuesday - belatedly

It's Wednesday and I seem to have sinned again!  Last night I was thinking about my Tuesday Confession at about 11:30 pm but not for long, and so here I am a day late and another flaw to add to my list of confessions. The sin of being lazy, or perhaps it's really rebellious. Anyway, let's get started.

Dear Reader, humbly I confess I've let you down. And as you can likely tell from above, I'm not even certain which is my reason... maybe a little of both. At any rate, this has been the second time recently and I really am going to get myself together next week.

Tonight I'm cold. Cold I tell you and that's really something for me. I'm the one in the office who gets cranky when they bump the heat up in the building. At home, I'm the first to want the A/C on and the last to want to furnace on. I confess, my body temperature setting is evidently different than must people. When I finish here I can tell you I'm headed for the bed and will burrow under the blanket for warmth.

For three days truing this past week my Blackberry was not syncing mail and I was unable to get feeds (twitter, facebook updates) or reach the Internet.  Phone calls and text messages worked fine.  During this time I really fell out of the "know" so to speak. I missed news flashes. I confess it was a very strange three days. Everything is working fine again. I did survive but it was a strange feeling by the third day and I was growing weary.

That's my week... hope yours ahead is a good one. I'll see you back here next Tuesday... promise!

an advent of sense

A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense. ~ Thomas Harrison

Let it Be

Words of Wisdom

The sun and the wind spoke briefly
of the day behind them
making light of irregularities
fostered by man-

"these things are to be
expected," one said to the other
and both agreed.   The clouds
heard this-

when the wind and the sun spoke
they never whispered
due to the distance between them
but the clouds ushered in their view

and it was agreed that the natural order
was far better suited      for everydayness
and the wind could be heard    even by man
singing "let it be, let it be..."


2011 ©  Michael A. Wells

Revisiting AWP

Given my Tuesday Confession post, I laughed my ass off reading Jeannine Hall Gailey's blog post for Tuesday.  The post titled How to Survive Not Going to AWP DC.

Just to get a taste of her post:

"Throw some dirty snow on yourself. Maybe roll around in it. Stand outside in whatever inclement weather your neighborhood provides. Make sure you’re carrying something heavy, like a bag full of books."

Go read the whole post for a good laugh.  Thanks Jeannine, I feel better already~

Magpie Tales 51 / Poem: Our Strength

Our Strength

Darkness descends

and we are together

tight as mortar and bricks.

A family, snug

we hardly notice the light

foot traffic—

Morning arrives with haste

of duties; so many people

so many places, each of us

feels the pressures of travel,

of heat, of friction

rolling over us

an anxiety— of the grit of life

churned out and spread over us

like we are plowed earth

and seeded discouragement

that it might take hold.

Some of it will root

between us. It will grow

and it may threaten

but tightly grouted

and stronger for our numbers

we will keep our ground.

 
2011 © Michael A. Wells


Magpie Tales 51

Confession Tuesday - Snow Day Edition

Dear Reader:  It's been one week, a lot of wind and too many inches of snow since my last confession. 

Let's get started...

Today I've spent most of the day inside.  I've driven my car all of about 6 blocks.  My boss called this morning after I had cleared off the car and said that we were not opening the office, that he would likely only be sending us back home within a couple of hours based upon how the storm was advancing.  I confess that I am not disappointed. Yes the day off means my project plans will be behind, but thought of facing I-70 in the condition that was anticipated was not something I was looking forward too.  I understand late today there was a multi-car pile up on the Interstate between here and the city - I'm thankful we were not on the road.  Thankful too that no one was seriously injured. The question now remains what will tomorrow look like?

While on my laptop today someone take the "lap" part seriously and believes that he has to occupy mine. Klaus (our minpin) comes over and under the desk and stretches out to pull himself up on my lap. I confess this practice of his is both cute and annoying at the same time. He's been on my lap like this at the computer three different times today. One in which he fell asleep in my arms.  It wasn't that long ago that Klaus' fate was in question. Regular readers may recall that he was paralyzed in an attack by another dog and his rehabilitation was a slow process. He still has residual issues but his overall condition seems miraculous compared to where he had to come from. It was during this period that Klaus really started to take to me. I confess, I think I've become his favorite. (Don't tell Shannon)

Every year for the past maybe three years, I read about writers running off to AWP like it's a religious pilgrimage. At first I had no idea what the heck it was... Association of Warped personalities...  Americans with Psychosis...  Annual Whoopee Party?  But I've grown the wiser reading of all the writerly/publisherly interactions and so I confess that this time of year, when so many are running off to (this year DC) I feel I'm somehow a subterranean writer, doing my work just below the radar.  I know that this is silly. There must be plenty of serious writers who are sitting at home reading about all the workshops and functions going on and the goodie bags, etc. With this in mind, I pledge that I will learn to get over this... or in the alternative one day go to the event.

Until next week, everyone be safe and happy!

Do You Care?

During this past week I ran across the newly released Code Of Best Practices In Fair Use For Poetry. I don't even recall what lead me to the link at the Poetry Foundation, but I promptly printed off the some 25 plus pages of copy and have actually read through it though I will not pretend to have absorbed enough of it to be highly authoritative on the subject. After reading through it I recall wondering just how big a splash this was going to make on the poetry scene. Will there be a period of discussion by poets on line? Will many poets actually read it? Will many even care?

Dave Bonta, a poet and literary magazine editor blogged on the subject yesterday - 'Code of Best Practices in Fair Use for Poetry: a vital first step.' Bonta expresses some cautions positives about the document though "... a little uneasy at the way in which these new standards were generated without any popular input, any attempt to poll or crowd-source among poets and fans of poetry."  Even Bonta acknowledges we poets can be an acrimonious group and broader input into the process of drafting such a document may have been difficult at best.

A cursory look at google told me what I had suspected. Buzz about this document up to this point was no bee swarm. Most in fact were general mentions of the existence of the document. There were a few expressions of opinion. Carl Bettis,  is a fellow local poet
had some fun with the document - mostly at the idea that poetry could be a profession and the conceptualization of a consensus of poets.

So I'm interested in your thoughts? Have you seen the document? What do you think? Do you care? Do you respect the intellectual property rights of other artists? Do you care if anyone gives a rat's ass about your intellectual property rights?

Some Recent Whale Sound Poems I Love

Posting a few of my recent favorites from Whale Sound - hope you like them too!

‘Rhode Island’ by Amy Miller
 
‘First Anniversary: Reading Russian Literature’ by Pamela Johnson Parker
 
‘Honeybees on Holiday’ by Kristin Berkey-Abbott

The Internet Kill Switch - Can it happen here?

What can an undemocratic government  do to control its people? If tear gas and rubber bullets don't work, take away their Twitter and Facebook access, of course. And if the people still don't fall into line, cut off their Internet and mobile phone access entirely. That's exactly what the Egyptian government did today when confronted with citizenry taking to the streets and demanding regime change. The surprising thing isn't that a corrupt, authoritarian regime would launch this kind of state-sponsored denial off service attack on its own citizens. Nor that it is willing to jeopardize its economy by cutting its businesses off from world markets. No, the thing that surprises me is that the U.S. government has plans for its own Internet Kill Switch.







The legislation was first introduced last summer by Sens. Joseph Lieberman (I-Conn.) and Susan Collins (R-Maine), and the former has promised to bring it to the floor again in 2011. It isn't called anything as obvious as the Internet Kill Switch, of course. It is called the "Protecting Cyberspace as a National Asset Act." Who could be against that? Anyone who's watching the news on TV today, that's who.






The proposal calls for the Department of Homeland Security to establish and maintain a list of systems or assets that constitute critical cyber-infrastructure. The President would be able to be able to control those systems. He or she would have ability to turn them off. The kicker: none of this would be subject to judicial review. This is just a proposal, mind you, but it certainly warrants concern. Particularly given the heavy-handed example being provided by Egypt

Confession Tuesday

Four more poems sent out into the world, no new rejections, $3.00 gas and nearly a week since my last confession.  Let's get started.

Dear Reader:

I'm feeling a little in between right now. In between the winter that surrounds us and the anticipation of the coming baseball spring training. Pitchers and catchers report to camp in about three weeks.  It's a schizophrenic sort of place to be. Living in the present and that future at the same time. It's not quite right. It's out of balance.

Just today I was reading Terresa Wellborn's blog post with the Guy Davenport quote about the pace and rhythm of nature and inevitably mankind, and she posed the question What is your pace of things? I confess that thinking about this question hit me as being very much out of balance. My actual was:

"My pace right now is that of a person just learning to drive. The jerky starts - followed by acceleration and then the sudden stop where you are kissing the windshield.
There is little or no harmony here presently, yet it is harmony that I crave. I could use a Zen moment. No wait, moments I have... if I could string several together, that would be an improvement."

                                                        ~0~

When it comes to my writing I go in waves where I become hyper critical of anything I write. I think a certain amount of self criticism is beneficial but I confess I can be self critical to an almost unhealthy point. I confess I'm in such a phase at this moment.

                                                       ~0~

I confess that I am addicted to episodes of Everybody loves Raymond. Patricia Heaton (Debra) is by far the best actress/actor on the show. Her emotion, response, etc. is so realistic. I can be pretty picky about the TV I watch, this may be my biggest TV vice.


That's about it for the week.... everyone be safe and happy!

Magpie Tales 49 - POEM: A Day Out

A Day Out

A trio of women

blades slung over shoulders,

slug their way to the pond,

their trails in the banks

of quiet white mark

their pilgrimage-

No socks to mend

no laundry, no meals

to be accounted for-

their voices clamoring

escape         they will

upon arrival  -  in

their most unlady-like fashion

cut loose on their secret mirror

under a cloudy sky;

skating, frolicking and acting

like the daughters

they would chastise

for such behavior

on any other day.

2011 © Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 49



Thoughts on Family History

With everyone else out of the house today, I cleaned some and then listened to a podcast of an interview with Maxine Hong Kingston as she confronts aging in her book I Love A Broad Margin To My Life. She's a remarkable person to listen to. Kingston took the title of her book from the quote by Henry David Thoreau.  Her view of being an elder and living against the backdrop of mortality is fastening.  Listening to her causes me to think about genealogy (even though I've had it on my mind) in a different sort of way. Not just from a personal interest but in the context of a responsibility to collect and pass that information to those in the family younger then yourself.  Creating a history of heritage is an elder's responsibility and it seems to me that it is more than simply collecting a genealogy history, but seeing where we've come from so often helps define who we are.

It really seems quite natural to me that poets would feel such a responsibility quite natural in the same way we do story telling. What do you think?

Poets & Feelings

One of my daughters distributed this among all our immediate family. Is she trying to tell me something?

Confession Tuesday - Rebellious Late Edition

It’s been a snow, the threat of a bigger snow, one more group of submissions, a lot of new “very rough” drafts and a week and a day since my last confession.

To the Confessional~

Dear Reader:

Yes, I must confess that last night I came home, made dinner for my sweetheart and promptly crashed. I didn’t turn on my laptop, did not read, write, and obviously did not do my Tuesday confession. And I confess that it was not a matter of forgetting, but willful neglect, maybe even rebellion as I two or three times (at least) thought of getting up to do it.

It seems there is a bit of rebelliousness that seems to be running through my veins these last few days. I have as suspicion as to the reason, but I will leave it at that for now. I choose to honestly confess on this point, not openly speculate on the causation. (I’m not my own therapist) ;)

While I’m not deep into astrology… for example I don’t read my horoscope daily – and when I do, it’s more for the entertainment value than anything else; I do take stock in the fact that the personality traits that are generally ascribed Capricorns fit me well. I’ve often felt comfort in this. It’s sort like being a part of a certain Irish clan. It’s the brotherhood of Capricorns – and all of our (better) traits that make it feel special. So along comes a thirteenth zodiac sign and butts into the calendar and moves all the days around and – WTF? Now I’m a Sagittarius? I confess I do not like this. Not one bit!

Was this brought to us by the same people who de-planetized Pluto? And thirteen? That’s not divisible by even numbers, it’s an unlucky number, it’s more than the number of months in a year, it’s…. you get the picture. It’s just not kosher.

So there you have it. My confession, a day late and a little put out.

Hope you and your week are properly aligned to an even number of stars.

Passing on a little advise....

Some great advise from Robert Peake's workshop - “Tactics for Sneaky Poets” posted on his site.

Some of my favorite advise:

• Use constraints. Use word groups, poetic forms, made-up assignments from friends. Constraints spark creative freedom.
• Write briefly and often. Robert Hass said, “You can do your life’s work in forty minutes per day.” Write often enough to stay “in the game,” usually several times per week. Set a time limit. You can go over if needed.
• Write bad. Try to write a “bad” poem. It gets you wild and free. Sometimes the harder you try to be bad, the better it gets.
• Keep a scroll. In addition to keeping going on a poem, try keeping one big document of poems and poem-snippets, so you’re never at the beginning, just in the flow. Pick up wherever you last left off, write in the date, and just go.

By the way, a collection of Robert's poems will appear in the Lost Horse Press-New Poets Short Books Series, edited by Marvin Bell.  The book is scheduled for publication in February 2011. Sign up on Robert's e-mail list to be notified when the book becomes available for pre-order.

Poetry Trailers

It's amazing the way trailers have moved into the world poetry.  Not long ago these were generally associated with the release of film, but no longer. Audio visuals are being done more routinely as trailers for poetry books.  Just today I saw on the poet Diane Lockward's blog site titled Blogalicious a video of one of here poems put to music. The poem, Eve's Confession is from her collection of poems titled Eve's Red Dress.  Go to her site here and experience it for yourself. She actually has some other trailers on this site you can check out. Look at the tab links under the header to find these.

They go out - they come back. Poems looking for homes

I've been busy reforming my ways this year submitting to four different journals so far.  Significant because I have come to dislike this part of writing over the past couple of years. 

Things are looking up! Yesterday, I received the following rejection e-mail from one of my submission groupings of poems:

Some nice lines in there, Michael, especially in Mount Rushmore. Overall, they didn't seem right for XXXXXX   Review. We have decided to pass this time.

...We appreciate you considering us submission-worthy. Please wait at least a week before submitting again.

Best,

Confession Tuesday - Way too old edition

Confession time has arrived again.  I feel like I have a lot I'm lugging around so what do you say we get started?

Dear Reader-

It's been another four poems sent out in search of new homes, a snow storm, a birthday and a tragedy since my last confession.

This weekend was surreal.  It was surreal in the context both of disbelief and yet a feeling we've been here before. Of course we haven't actually been here, but I confess that this feels in a very sad and very senseless way like that summer of 1968.  The assassination attempt on Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, the death of a 9 year old girl, a federal judge, one of Giffords staffers, and at least 3 others  dead and something like 14 more wounded. The number is staggeringly hazy to me even now.

I confess that I fail to see why anyone in the public sector needs to be able to purchase an extended magazine clip for a firearm. If you are not police or military it seems senseless.  Between Sept. 13, 1994 and Sept. 13, 2004 The Federal Assault Weapons Ban (AWB)  or  Public Safety and Recreational Firearms Use Protection Act as it was subtitled, prevented the sale to individuals of such ammunition. But during the second Bush presidency, the NRA prevailed in creating a climate in which neither President Bush or the bulk of Congress had the courage to support renewal of it.

I confess to feeling a sickening indignation over the lack of common sense in this country where firearms are concerned. It's a sad commentary - not unlike that of MADD (mothers against drunk drivers) that for many to become proactive, they have to lose someone close to them before they realize the price we pay for our cultural affair with firearms is simply not worth it.

Yesterday, I turned @&.  I confess that I've been bothered by my aging for far longer then most people are. I know lots who are bothered come the big 40.  Some even at 35, and a few at 30.  I think the 30 year old cases must be pretty hard core. But I'll go one further. I was starting to feel the anxiety come age 25. Yes, you heard it right... 25.  Of course now I confess I'd be tickled to go back to 30 again.

That's about it for this week. I've got several things to do before bed time tonight.  May your week, what's left of it, be a good one!

Magpie Tales - 48 / Poem: I Can Imagine

I Can Imagine

Somewhere between the cotton weave

of a sheer web smeared across the flatness

of old sheets of inked notes silent

on pages as brittle as the print is delicate;

and the stuffy air of a concert hall

far off in some other time, I can imagine

the Cantata’s rising echo of voice

on the tail of instrumentation

jostling back and forth 

each fighting for their due

recognition— the orchestra

in a winning moment heeds

the directors baton— going allegro.

Voices bow to strings and horns

until a disquieting roll of timpani ushers in 

one final melding of chorus and instruments.



2011 © - Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 48

Unconscious Mutterings - Week 115

You say...  I think:

• 1.Speech :: free
• 2.Meredith :: broadcasting
• 3.Consensus :: maker
• 4.Attack :: plan of
• 5.Sue :: litigate
• 6.Voted :: democracy
• 7.Epic :: journey
• 8.Checking in :: at home
• 9.Dishwasher :: liquid
• 10.Underneath :: car
  
  Get your own list here

Magpie Tales 47 - Poem: Deranged

Deranged

The drip a mystery,

the puddle, rust flavored;

the drain too far away.

A contorted idea-

a trick knob,

the mirror of a sick mind.

2111 © Michael A. Wells

Magpie Tales 47

"...point out the inequities, nothing to lose but our chains."

I read this blog post today by Kristin Berkey-Abbott: Artifacts from the Deep Freeze of the Cold War.  It was her trip back into the past as she visited the Cold War years and concluded a poem she had written. The final stanza reads:

I write my own poems. I imagine they will change
the world, that all I must do to rid the planet of injustice
is to point out the inequities, nothing to lose but our chains.

These lines so expressed what I believe many of my generation put so much stock in. Thinking that calling out inequities would lead to an end of a multitude of injustices.  Idealistic? Naive?  Still, as I began to adapt to the life of a poet, putting such things into "my poet perspective," I've had to ask myself if I really believe I can change the world with poems?  Do I think anyone can?

Over a year ago, another poet introduced me to Carolyn Forché, an incredible poet who has established a reputation as a poet of witness. Carolyn very often writes poems that take us very gently into social injustice. I'm not sure if she is changing the world one reader at a time but she certainly has the ability, with great subtlety to unmask things that might otherwise go unnoticed by many. 

What do you think?  Can poets change the world?

Confession Tuesday

A new year and a first confession of the new year.  Come follow me to the booth...

Dear Reader:

It's been one week since my last confession.  One week of crazy weather ranging from nearly 60 down to the mid to lower teens. A week of sniffles (go figure) and reflections (looking back on the year, not staring in the mirror in an act vanity). But I confess I am I am already getting acclimated to the new year.

As a rule I don't plan out resolutions as such. But I do hold some hopes some goals close to my heart. Some things that will require me to be better at things this year then past.

On New Years day I cranked out my first packet of poetry submissions of the year.  I posted this in my Facebook status to which Diane Lockwood replied, " Don't brag. It's unattractive."  Her remark made me laugh, but I confess I've come to resist submitting my work these past two years like the plague. But my post was my way of establishing some accountability. The next day, I sent off a second packet. I'm finished for the week except for some home work of planning my next victim, I mean venue to submit to next week.  The thing is that I kicked myself in the butt to get started and I want to keep some feeling of momentum.

If I'm happy and upbeat about submitting my work, I'm cranky about the price of gas. I confess that every time gas nears the $3 range or above I get this way. I'm trying to be more positive and upbeat about things, but it seems that not only are we shelling out more for gas, we are driving a lot more these days. When I hear on NPR about countries paying $7 a gallon I don't know how they do it.

Someone at the office cheered my up this week reminding me that pitchers and catchers will be reporting to spring training camps soon. (mid February). "Right around the corner." I believe where her words. I confess my interest in Football has run it's course since my fantasy league is over. Even the Chief's surprise of reaching the playoffs does little for me.  For one thing I'm under no delusions about the team's chances. I'm ready for baseball. But, when have I not been?  ;)

My attempt at algebra for today

If, as Carlos Fuentes says, "Writing is a struggle against silence" ~

then I'm thinking submitting is a struggle against failure. 

Unconscious Mutterings - week 413

You say.... I Think:

• 1.Detective :: Holmes
• 2.Bra :: Underwire
• 3.Prove it :: Confirm
• 4.The end :: Conclusion
• 5.Messy ::  Trashy
• 6.Immovable :: Stationary
• 7.Jingle ::  Rhyme
• 8.False ::  Wrong
• 9.Comprehend :: Understand
• 10.Scream ::  Yell

Get your own list here

Gold Star

First day of the new year - I've sent out a submission with four poems to kick off 2011.  Got to be better about this!