Confession Tuesday - Maple Leaf Edition

Dear Reader:

It has been one fall week since my last confession.

I confess that when I get new reading material (especially poetry) in the mail I get crazy happy.
This week Laura Kasischke's latest book "Where Now" arrived in my mailbox. This was cause for some dancing. I did it inside so the neighbors did not think that I was crazy or at least confirm their preconceived notions.

While we are on the subject of things that add a smile to my face, it's fall and I love the bright orange and red Maple leaves. And as I mention this I confess that a bit of sadness comes over me as I realize that since we sold our home and moved, I will no longer have the two surprise Maples in the backyard to admire. They were a daily infusion of joy. The Iris flowers did the same for me, but that is another season. They will be missed as well.

During this past week, I had some worry about  Silas, our rescue German Shepard. He was not keeping food down and had diarrhea.  I am happy to say that he seems on the mends. 

Like I suppose everyone else, the disasters - Hurricanes, tropical storms, earthquakes and most recently the California fires have occupied my mind. (at least that part not consumed by our moronic President) These disasters underscore just how fragile life can be. I know so many people that were within the striking path of the fires in northern California.  The many of you have been on my mind and in my thoughts and prayers. I confess that it seems totally incomprehensible what life for those in the path of the horrific fires. Not only lives threatened but homes and whole communities. It is times like these that you wake up, inhale and count your own blessings to be alive.

I think art, writing, music & especially poetry are the medicine for our souls. I confess that in these times, the arts seem less like the luxury some believe they are and more like an essential ingredient ofday to day living.

If you are reading this, you may be suffering in ways that none of us can imagine. For those, I know your pain is real and you have my thoughts and prayers. But if you are reading this, you also have life. I hope you will rejoice in that fact. We have ourselves & we have each other.

Until next time - be safe!

Confession Tuesday - I know who the moron is, edition.

Dear Reader:

It has been seven weeks since my last confession. These things happen. You get busy, you get tired, you find yourself in a trance, or lost in a poem whose end has not been written yet and you don't know how the hell to get out of it and seven weeks have passed and you are asking forgiveness for being such a lousy confessor.  

I guess seven weeks ago I was marvelling at the sight of the solar eclipse. Today, I confess I'm just happy the sun came up on another day. This causes me to ask a serious of questions that I can't believe I even have to ask... Like:

1. Why do we need a president anyway? 
2. Why is he hell-bent on constantly keeping us on the brink of war?
3. Why has he sold out to a foreign adversary?
4. Why does he coddle Nazis and white supremacists?
5. Why is Trump more immature than the average 4-year-old? 
6. Why is he challenging a cabinet member to an IQ contest to prove who the real moron is? 
7. Why is all this for real and not reality TV?  Why can't we just turn it all off and make it go away?

I have started working with another poet who is mentoring me specifically towards more impactful poetry. So far I believe that there are some positive developments in the way I approach my writing. I confess that it is too early to see the changes I want to achieve but I feel good about it and that is a good starting point. 

I have a reading at the end of this month and I confess that I want to read some new stuff that no one has heard yet. This means reworking several drafts that I have been sitting on. 

Trying to be a better writing steward I have agreed to work with other mentees from our Spring W2W session to help facilitate discussion among the Fall W2W session mentees on Facebook. I confess that I enjoy seeing the excitement that these writers have for their particular genre. I think it's infectious. I believe this is something you would want to catch. 

Ivy Alvarez turned me on to the poet Brigit Pegeen Kelly by introducing me to the poem "Song" I confess this is one of the more powerful poems that I've read for quite a while. 

It turned cooler last night. It's feeling more like October. Oh, and there is fall ball!  While I miss my Giants - I am happy the Indians have played a great season and right now they are tied with NY in the divisional series. Fingers crossed that they win the world series this year, I confess my eyes are crossed too but that may be because I'm especially tired. 

Until next time, be safe and stay sane. Someone has to. 

Confession Tuesday - The Totality of it All

Dear Reader: 

It has been precisely one trip to the butterfly gardens and one total eclipse of the heart - I mean the sun since my last confession. 

I confess reader that I don't have a lot to talk about this confession, but what I do have to fall back on are positive confessions. 

First, my wife, granddaughter, and niece all did an outing to Powell Gardens for their butterfly garden.  It was my first trip the butterfly portion but I have done other events there in the past. Harper, my granddaughter, had a delightful (albeit hot) time. We all sweltered in the sun and humidity but the event featured in addition to butterflies - a whole host of flowering plants and greenery.  I think we all felt that we would be inundated with butterfly clouds about our heads but this was not the case. There was, however, a good number of them and we or at least I was well pleased with the exhibit. 

It was funny because they had a buffer area in the entrance where you walked in and closed a door behind you, then opened another and proceeded into the garden area. Upon leaving we had to stop and turn around to be checked for any butterflies that might be trying to elope with us.  I thought they were going to pat us down and check our pockets too. 

This brings me to Monday. The day of goofy glasses. When I left the office in the morning it has been raining. The prospect of seeing any sun, much less the eclipse seemed remote.  As the morning progressed, we would check out the windows from time to time and alas it looked like we might be in business. I confess I had been wildly anticipating this event. 

I have always held the moon in high mystical esteem. The sun and moon eclipsing was like two opposites attracting and coming together in a dance. I have indulged the concept of great romanticism associated with this event. I had, in fact, hopped that my wife and I might share the experience together but I confess that was not to be. 

The sun goddess looked favorably upon us because the sky mostly cleared and just before totality a stream of clouts momentarily threatened but quickly moved on.  Hazza! A magnificent halo around the moon with a tiny spot that had a starburst creating a wedding ring effect was before our eyes (covered with protective glasses of course). 

Now I admit that for days I've had Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" going through my head. I've always been fond of the song but it's looping in my mind this very moment. 

Am I any different from this experience? I confess that I believe these two celestial bodies coming together made me feel more in communion with the universe. That's belonging t something really big!  

I think the eclipse was meant for the poet that resides in every one of us.  Including the ones that don't know it or would deny it. 

Until next time - be safe & Peace!

Confession Tuesday - Got Respect edition

Dear Reader:

It's been one house sale, several rejection letters, the Giants have gone 16 -21, North Korea has launched 2 ballistic missiles, and the President has given aid and comfort to neo-nazis, white supremacists, and the KKK and 6 weeks have passed since my last confession.

Follow me to the confessional:

My dear readers, the very thing has happened that I so mentally fought for all of this past year and a half. Our house sold. Actually, it sold the first day on the market. But it is done with now. I confess this has been an extremely unsettling feeling and I loved almost everything about our home. The layout, the location, the Great Room, the trees in the yard, the Iris that came up every single spring, except this one for some reason (I think they knew we were leaving) and openness around us.  I won't pretend that I am okay about this for now because it is not that easy.

Through this, I learned a new word. Hiraeth is a Welch for which there is no direct English translation.It is a mix of longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness, or an earnest desire to return to a place you can never go back to. I believe this experience will very likely inform my poetry writing for a long time to come.

I have been a Giants baseball fan for in excess of 30 years.  I confess my team which is generally highly competitive is having one of the worst seasons imaginable. Still, I would like the record to reflect that Michael Wells is no casual or lukewarm Giants fan. They are still the team I love even if they are having a crappy season. There will be better days and I will be there still.

I would be kidding you if I said I was not bothered by the increased activity towards nuclear warheads by North Korea. I am after all a cold war kid. Yes, we have lived with a nuclear threat all these years since then but at a substantially reduced risk. What we have not had is a president who in the wee hours of the morning tweets stupid stuff about North Korea and talks about "Fire & Furry like the world has never seen." In return, they have talked about launching ballistic missiles in the vicinity of Guam (a US Territory)  Neither Kim Jong-un or Donald Trump appears to be rational. I confess I don't know how got to this place?
Yesterday was a pathetically sad day for this country. I confess I never anticipated I would see the day that our President would give aid and comfort to White Supremacists, Neo-nazis, and KKK.Trump's words this week in connection with the violence in Charlotteville are despicable. There is no excusing them whatsoever. He has no moral authority as president.

Since I was last here confessing, I acknowledge that I have come across a poet that is new to me and has remarkable ability to write with a level of intimacy and emotion that is rare. There are many reasons this poet is awesome, not the least of which she is non-degreed and in fact did not finish middle school. She is my patron saint of non-degreed poets. Her name is Francesca Bell and you can see her work here Francesca Bell- Poet.So who are you reading that is new to you? Let me know.

Until next time, write, read, be safe!


P.S. - Got Respect? This world needs more of it!

Confession Tuesday Baby - Caroline Edition

Dear Reader:

It's been a a whole month since my last confession. Far too many disgusting Trump Tweets,  too many fucking fireworks going off as my wife is trying to nap and the dogs are going buck crazy with each boom. I'm at wits end myself.  I can only imagine what it will be like after dark. On an exciting note, we have a new granddaughter that arrive just yesterday.

But reader, I degrees....

My head is hosting a giant headache and has been for much of the day. At the same time, I have some neck pain going on. All this was sufficient to leave me feeling depressed earlier.  Fortunately, an alprazolam later I'm doing a little better, except one of the dogs now has been barking for a good 10 minutes straight and it honestly feels like it is going to be a very long night. I confess, I want to strangle some neighborhood assholes engaged in the firework crap.

Yesterday, was an exciting day in the Wells family.  Caroline arrived making a second grandchild for my wife and I. She joins big sister Harper in the Porter household. Above is Caroline in my arms. I confess #2 is just as exciting as the first was.  We've had Harper much of the last couple of days while mom is preoccupied.  It has been interesting to watch her reaction to her new sister.  When we went up to see mom and newborn last night they gave Harper a "Big Sister" sticker to wear. I thought this was really cool myself.

Earlier last week I felt I was back on a spell of positive creative Karma but the past few days I have failed to utilize and sustain it. Now, I find myself trying to get it back. I confess that feeling stressed about it and trying to force and magically wish it to return is likely counter productive. I will try to do some reading from material that I often find helpful in stimulating the right atmosphere for writing, I'll let you know this week how this is coming along.

Have a safe fourth! Enjoy family & friends and celebrate our nation & the things that make us free.

Potter Milestone

Twenty years ago today the first HARRY POTTER arrived in stores. Lot of people have grown up on Harry Potter.

JK Rowling - Author

Poetry Is My Compass

The road ahead is not always sunny, there will be patches of sun just as there are spots of darkness and  splotches of shadows. 

As I get older I believe that poetry - both reading it and writing is informs my life compass. 

If you can see things more than one way, life becomes richer. The moon would be so boring without the sun.  So believe me when I say we need the day and we need the night.

2017 Poet Crush List 6-Pack

It's time for my 2017 annual Poets Crush List.  There are many in my view writing noteworthy poetry these days that it is hard to narrow this down to six, but alas, this is a Crush 6- Pack.

I will give you a small capsule of my thoughts on why each poet has been chosen for my list. Any time you make a list that takes into account how you value artists there is subjectivity involved. Your own list might look very different.  But if you have not had a chance to explore the work of  these poets, I think they are worth reading. There is no prize associated with this...  aside from bragging rights, to the extent you feel it worth bragging about. The whole point of this list was my attempt to recognize those poets that are rocking my corner of the word.

Maggie Smith  - If you tell me you do not know the poem Good Bones I'm going to wonder what planet you've been marooned on.   But Maggie is not on my list because she wrote Good Bones, though that certainly brought her to my attention,  but I have read many of her poems that can be found on line, additionally I've read her book, The Well Speaks of it's Own Poison.  Portions of this book reminded me so much of Anne Sexton. Particularly her fairy tales. There is a lingering quality to many of the images she congers up in this book.

Smith had a couple of prized winning chapbooks but I suspect a good many additional awards are in store for her.  Her book  Good Bones which contains the aforesaid poem is to be released in September and I can't wait.  The thing about Maggie is that if she keeps writing with the same smart and artistic flair I am going to keep buying & reading her books.

Heather Derr-Smith - There must be some kind of karma associated with the name Smith presently because this makes two in this year's six-pack.  Heather first came to my attention when another local poet told me about her -  and her book Tongue Screw. She was scheduled to read at the Writer's Place here locally and I put it on my calendar. As luck would have it (bad luck) Heather was not able to make it so I ordered the book. Tongue Screw was brilliant! Heather is a kind of an international poet much the same way Carolyn Forche is. Heather  has traveled extensively and that travel tends to inform her work. I was especially taken by her images related to Sarajevo. I am a big fan of the Winter Olympics and back in 1984 when coverage was round the clock and they often did human interest fill storied, I fell in love with Sarajevo from afar.  The poems in this book really resonated with me. In all art, poetry, music painting I am especially drawn to dissonance and Tongue Screw percolated it.  I then followed up reading her book The Bride Minaret  which also has an international flavor.  These two books had elements of tenderness alongside a stark violence. But they also sang. Oh, they were so very lyrical.  And the good news is Heather has another book coming out this fall - Thrust and you can pre-order it  here.



Kaveh Akbar -  I was introduced to Akbar by way of AWP17 in Washington, DC, where I heard him on a panel about the importance of the interview in poetry. He's an Iranian-American poet. When I first met him his hair and voice were what stood out to me. There was an real genuine honesty to his voice  that rang true when he spoke.  As soon as I was introduced to his work, I found that I was captivated by his writing writing as well. Akbar impresses me as a serious artist, both in his poetry and his interview of other artists. His poetry has graced the New Yorker, VQRonline, Linebreak, as well as Rumpus and many other venues. I have added Akbar's debut book Calling a Wolf a Wolf  to my fall reading list. It can be pre-ordered here.




Marie Howe -  There are times when I have had a poet on the list back to back, or come back on again later. Marie Howe is a repeat from 2016.  Some of her earlier work was really spoke to me. Then, 2017 brought with it Magdalene is her greatest work yet in my opinion.  She takes Mary Magdalene and through the magic of her poetry makes her life oh so relevant, I had been anticipating this this book and it did not disappoint. I have read it and re-read it more times than I can tell you. How is clearly still very big on my radar for a second year in a row. Magdalene can be ordered here.




Kathryn Nuernberger - Sometimes we don't have to travel far to discover poets whose work we fall in love with. Nuernberger is a Missouri poet and until this year I have not heard of her.  I met her at a reading sponsored by the Kansas City Public Library.  She has two poetry books, Rag & Bones and The End of Pink which was a 2015 winner of the James Laughlin Award.

Her reading style was quite enjoyable. She comes across as smart and a bit sassy. While I have never been one to write poetry laden with scientific language, I appreciate how she is able to pull it off and and hold the readers attention. She instantly had the audience on her side with her wit. I bought the End of Pink on the spot after hearing her read.  I want to see much more of this poet!!!



Cate Marvin -  In her book Oracle,  the first poem caught my attention right off.  In a poem about the ineptitude of certain Hurricanes I found the poet had no ineptitude for writing long sentences.

The poems in this book were sly. I found yourself being pulled into them and submerged in words. Once I had I felt like drowning, yet I could not stop and fight to stay afloat, I had to submerge in the language in order to take it all in.  It is poetry that pulls me, makes me think, that will most frequently connect me with a poet and make me want more.  Marvin has my attention this year and that's why she is in my 6-pack.

Confession Tuesday - The Need to Read Edition

Dear Reader:

It's been one surrender in world climate leadership to China, continued multiple insults to European allies, leaked inelegance confirming Russia hacked a voter/election software supplier prior to the November 2016 election, one rejection letter, great anticipation of former FBI director Comey's testimony in two days before the Senate Intelligence Committee, contemplation of poets for my 2017 Poet's Crush List, and another week since my last confession.



Let me start by confessing  that I have not been reading enough this past week. Too many things getting in the way; unpacking and arranging my writing studio.  It is maybe two thirds what I had before and at one point this weekend I was nearly rendered frozen by the feeling that the walls were closing in on me.  It just came from nowhere and it was like a stun gun hit me and I could do nothing.

Without  particularly trying intentionally I have been doing some longer poem drafts lately. I confess that  more often than not my lineage is often 21-25 lines or less. I'm happy to see some longer works but honestly I have not set out to do this. It's like shit. It happens.

I'm narrowing in on my Poet Crush List for this year. I will announce it this month. It's hard because I am reading so many wonderful poets during the winter and spring and it's hard to narrow them down to 6. I call it  My Poet Crush 6 Pack.  It is harder for me to narrow down the women then men. I confess this is because I tend to read far more women poets than men.  Two of the six were men last year. I don't anticipate the ratio being  any higher than that this year but who knows...  there were so many really good reads this time it is hard to choose just six.

There are some books that will be coming out later this year that I am really anxious for.... When I know one is being release by an author that I generally have loved their work, I confess I get downright giddy as I know I am approaching a new release... Victoria Chang’s Barbie Chang forthcoming. It's available for pre-order. Heather Derr-Smith has Thrust: Poems  available in pre-order and Kaveh Akbar's book Calling a Wolf a Wolf  will be out this fall as well.  I confess That I am probably forgetting one or two others that ore on my future reading list but that give you an idea that there will be some great reading ahead.

I confess that in the evening when I take Silas out on a leash for his final business trip, I have missed the open sky that allowed to nearly always see the moon and stars overhead. They spoke to me. Now at night I hear nothing up there.... Till next time... stay safe~

Confession Tuesday - Memory Lane Edition

Dear Reader:


It has been one fucked up Great Room, boxes packed & unpacked, one faux president that left the country, embarrassed us overseas and returned, me reestablishing a writing studio (still in progress) lots of sifting through pictures, etc. (or as my wife likes to say, "we don't have time to go down memory lane." Too numerous things that I cannot find to mention them all here, and of course two fricking weeks since my last confession.

I confess that  emotions and anger  are high.  I was not in favor of selling our home. Nor was I in favor  of moving  where we have moved.  A contractor was brought in to do some things to the house before we sell it.  One of the things I did not want  and was conveyed to Tom the contractor was that the dark hardwood which comprised the bulk of the room itself was NOT to be painted. This was conveyed  by my wife early on. Yet a week ago Sunday we stopped by hand there was bird-shit white primer on all the wooden walls and beams. I'm not talking about some cheap paneling. I went ballistic. It remains one of the most angry moments of my lifetime.  The contractor  was a friend of the family and he had done work for us before including twice painting the exterior of the home. This room is what sold me on the house when we bought it.  Vaulted ceiling - floor to ceiling brick fireplace with built in bookcases of the dame dark wood, floor to ceiling on either side of the fireplace. Seeing this made me both physically sick as well as tremendously angry.

Watching the president  fly off to the world beyond was surreal. It was like good, he's out of our hair. The reality is that he was still on the planet and he could still do damage, act like a complete bully/sociopath that he is and give the rest of the watching world a horrible image of Americans.  I confess, he is nothing  like most of us. And yes, there is the reality that he returned.

Moving is stressful. Years ago I was a Realtor and I recall a reprint from a trade journal that indicated that moving was one of the three most stressful events in life only  behind death of  a close family member and dissolution of a marriage. This move compound multiple elements of disfavor for my part. One is the move itself. I've never liked moving even if I was going  someplace that I had a positive anticipation about. Second is the sale fo the house (which has not yet occurred) - but  I had no interest in leaving this home anytime soon.  I rise every day, drive to the same job I've worked for 30 years. I'm not an invalid,  My mind is fully intact. I loved my home. Why would I want to sell it?
And last, I did not want to move in with another family member. I love my family but I also value autonomy. The house in not in a geographical area I wanted to live in. The house is much smaller, no basement.  Between the humans and pets, it is cramped quarters. I feel like I moved into a Tiny House and I am not a Tiny House kind of guy.  All this I confess increases the stress above and beyond that normally associated with moving.

Honestly, I feel somewhere between a refugee and an Expatriate who can't go back to his homeland. As long as we are confessing, I'll throw that in there too.

On a positive note, I have continued this month to submit work again. Getting back in the routine of Saturday Submissions.  I confess that  I know this is good and in a matter of time I will be  back to getting somewhat regular new pieces of poetry published.

I confess that moving brings back memories. It is bound to. You find and reminisce over old snapshots, Watching a home empty out is like a time laps video o  your life there. That alone uncorks emotions - aged and taking on flavors of the past.

I confess that I am excited that I will be work-shopping writing with some others from the Writer 2 Writer 2017 Spring Session. I'm as anxious to see everyone else's work as I am for them to see mine.
I confess that part is a little scary too.

This past week I had a scheduled Artist Date and I confess I need to be better about doing those. At least a couple times a month.

Over the weekend I enjoyed one of my wife's exquisite dishes that she learned from her grandmother, good old Polish Golumbki.  I confess I could never tire of it.

It also occurred to me this weekend that  June is about here and that means it is time for my annual Poetry Crush - Six Pack List.  I confess I've had names swirling around and some will no doubt rise to the top and - there will be six of them.  I guess you'll have to keep checking back until they are announced later in June. :-)

I feel totally confessed out. I can think of nothing more--

Until next time, stay safe! Enjoy life.

Confession Tuesday - Poetry Contest - Goals - and Trump in Orange Jumpsuit Edition

Dear Reader:

I've entered one poetry contest, sent out 4 poems, all new (meaning they have never been submitted anywhere else before), concluded Module 6 in the Spring Writer 2 Writer program, and there has been a whole lot of shit happening in Washington since my last confession.

Follow me to the confessional....

Reader, I'm tired. moving does that to you. I'm in cramped quarters and started over putting together a writing studio again. I miss my old one. I miss everything about our home. Contractor is doing stuff there now but it's empty and I confess it looks like it is lonely too. Do you think houses have emotions?

I missed last weeks confession Tuesday because life was happening. A lot of life has been happening lately and it seems to get in the way. Still, I've tried hard to get some focused writing time in over the weekend. Worked on one new poem in particular for many hours over Saturday night and Sunday. I confess that it felt good when I included it in the contest material that I sent out.

I don't enter a lot of contests but this one particular one I've done maybe 3 or 4 times. I think this makes 4. It is sponsored by a Journal that I especially like and it is often featuring  other writers I especially  enjoy reading.

In an email exchange this past week with my mentor Ken Waldman, we talked about  goals, both short term and long term. We have agreed to touch base around the first of January to see how the short term goals are going. I confess that I am really grateful for the opportunity that has been afforded me by AWP in the form of the Writer 2 Writer mentoring program. And as for Ken, I cannot thank him enough.

I hate to take a downward turn now but I confess that I am appalled at the behavior of President Trump.  I confess that  I always had concerns about him being fit for the office but I have to say that his behaviors are embarrassing and he is clueless. His ethics are non existent. He is the most childish person of adult age I have ever seen. He lacks to capacity to be truthful. He has the attention span of flea and has put our nation and democracy at risk in so many ways. He has now obstructed justice and in spite of any finding that collusion with Russia goes as high as him, he is now a candidate for impeachment for trying to derail the investigation by the various law enforcement and national security agencies that are investigating the Russia and Trump campaign connection. I confess that I believe we all will be better off when this man leaves the White House and his many business annexes and enters prison in an orange jumpsuit.

That's it for now... I beg your absolution for going political.

Art & Public Opinion

The artist is chosen by God to fulfill his commands and must never be overwhelmed by public opinion. ~ Albrecht Durer

Confession Tuesday - Elephant in the Room

Dear Reader - It's been a string of rainy days that came and went, I poetry month complete with 30 poetry drafts that ended and the arrival of one new poetry book since my last confession.

To the confessional....

Reader, my life is about to be turned upside down and inside out. We are going to sell our home and move. If there is one thing that I hate more than moving ( and there isn't much) it would be selling the home that  I absolutely love in a hundred different ways.  At one point in my life I was a Realtor. I recall reading an article from Psychology Today that was reprinted in a trade magazine which listed moving  as one of the three most traumatic things a person goes through the other two were death of a close family member and  dissolution of a marriage.  I truly understand that and believe it to be true.

I confess that I have been internally dealing with this for some time but the actual move is imminent. It was the thing I did not talk about on here. The elephant in the corner.Basically I keep telling him to sit in the corner and shut up. This is all that I am going to say about this for now but I suspect over the next few weeks it will likely come up again in one way or the other.

I confess that my creativity has been dog paddling to try and stay afloat. The emotional stuff  has been like rocky waters that I bounce about trying to stay afloat and not  get bashed into.

I do wonder if there is some kind of silver lining in all of this. Perhaps my experience will  me to craft a wonderfully magnificent manuscript as an Expatriate Poet.


Best to all - Stay safe my friends...