Tag Archives: life

Recording of “To the Lovely Green Beetles Who Carried My Notes into the Afternoon”

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“To the Lovely Green Beetles Who Carried My Notes into the Afternoon” first appeared in riverSedge Volume 29, Issue 1, released in October 2016. It is also included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second, now available for pre-publication order from Finishing Line Press.

 

 

Please note:  prepublication sales determine the print run, which means this stage is crucial in terms of how many copies will be printed and the number of copies I’ll receive as payment. So if you feel inclined to help this poet in his commercial endeavor (which does seem a tad strange), and are able, please purchase your copy during this period, which runs through August 11. The book’s tentative release date is October 6.

 

A Step Closer

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A Step Closer

The difference in here
and there, a step closer to infinity
swallowing the clover and wild onion.

Not knowing, you shift purpose to intent.

Following the sun,
the flower sips light all day,
pausing only when I walk between.

 

 

Recording of My Poem “Latitude”

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latitude

“Latitude” is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second, now available for pre-publication order from Finishing Line Press. It was first published at Poetry Breakfast in October 2016. Many thanks to Cate T. for sponsoring the title during the August 2015 Tupelo Press 30/30 Challenge, and to Charlotte the hen for laying the egg that inspired the poem. 

 

 

Please note:  prepublication sales determine the print run, which means this stage is crucial in terms of how many copies will be printed and the number of copies I’ll receive as payment. So if you feel inclined to help this poet in his commercial endeavor (which does seem a tad strange), and are able, please purchase your copy during this period, which runs through August 11. The book’s tentative release date is October 6.

 

FIVE CREATIVE USES FOR MY BOOK, FROM EVERY MOMENT A SECOND

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More than just poetry!

So you don’t read poetry? No worries. This book is a multi-tasker’s dream. Buy it and let your practical nature take over. No reading necessary!

1) Scorpion swatter – let the aggressive, pain-inducing arachnid know the full weight of poetry! SLAM! No more second moments for you, scorpion!

2) Coaster – a half-dozen copies of the book will keep you out of the doghouse, if you, like certain unnamed poets, occasionally, and without malice, set sweating pint glasses of frothy ale directly on antique cherry end-tables. Just place a copy of From Every Moment a Second on all tabletops and flat surfaces around the home, and never worry about marring the furniture. Put your beverage glass directly upon the colorful cover, and let the poetry perform its magic. Who knew that paper was so absorbent!

3) Body armor – well, maybe not. The pen is mightier than the sword, and all that, but Kevlar is a better bet when it comes to bullets. So scratch that idea, unless you’d like to print up Kevlar dust jackets. Hmm. Not a bad idea. Nyah, nyah! Your bullets can’t pierce my verse! Just saying…

4) Hot pad – need something on which to place a gurgling pot of “OMG This Stuff Burns, Really, Really Burns” chili? A short stack of From Every Moment a Second will do the trick. I recommend at least three copies to achieve maximum efficiency. For larger pots, six copies, in stacks of three, are considered the norm, but you may, for personal reasons, use more.

5) Furniture and appliance leveler – are you tired of your fried eggs running downhill and forming lazy crescent moons instead of perfectly centered suns? Simply stick a copy of From Every Moment a Second under the offending corner of the stove. Presto. Sunny side up? No problem. And this is a portable solution! How many times have you been to a trendy, hipster coffee shop and found your table, the only unoccupied one, of course, wobbling, and in danger of spilling precious drops of that costly triple-mocha-vodka latte? Carry copies of the book with you, and shove one (or more) under the responsible table leg. Done!

 

To order this scorpion-swatting, moisture-absorbing, heat-deflecting and furniture-leveling book, visit Finishing Line Press. And hey, you might even look at some of the words. It’s okay. Really.

Undecided? Read a review here. Alas, no mention of the five uses described above…

 

 

Ode to Bacon

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Ode to Bacon

How you lend
yourself
to others,

enhancing even
the sweetest fig
in your embrace
over coals,

or consider
your rendered
self, how it

deepens flavor
with piggish
essence, coating

or absorbed,
blended or
sopped. O belly
of delight, o wonder
of tongues,

how could I not
love you
and your infinite
charms, even

when you resist
my efforts and
shoot sizzling bits

of yourself
onto my naked
hands? I pay

this toll
gladly,
today and

next year
and all those
days to follow,

till the last piece
is swallowed
and our sun
goes dark.

Hyperbole
becomes you,
smoked beauty,
salted love,

and I shall never
put you down
or leave you
behind

on a plate
to be discarded
or forgotten,

unloved.

With thanks to T.S. Wright, for her challenge.

 

My Poem “Scarecrow Sings the High Lonesome” Has Been Published in Crannóg 45

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CrannogFront

My poem, “Scarecrow Sings the High Lonesome,” has been published in the summer issue of  the Irish journal, Crannóg, available in printed form only. Alas, I was unable to attend the June 30 launch at the Crane Bar in Galway. Maybe next time!

CrannogBack

 

My Writing Space

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I am fortunate to have a writing space of any sort, much less a comfortable one.

Shack X

This is the shack that launched a thousand rejections…or something like that. It’s small, with a 10 x 12 footprint, and is getting crowded inside.  The photo was taken in August 2013, a few weeks before the interior was finished out. Note the inspector, Jackboy, with his ball.

Shack 1

The most important feature of the shack is the air conditioner. The bookcases are nice, too, but the heat would be unbearable without the a/c unit.

Shack 2

Books keep migrating here. I wonder why. The cattle dog spent many hours in the dog bed, but the Chihuahuas prefer the house.

Shack 3

I try to use the available space as efficiently as possible, hence the skinny book cases. The painting is by Stuckist painter Ron Throop, whose art and words inspire me.

Shack 4

The desk is usually messier than this…

Shack 5

Birds often smacked into the righthand window, until I added the little mobile fabricated from a piece of cedar and wooden bird ornaments.

Shack 6

Yes, that’s a stationary bike. The good thing about having such a small space is that I can ride the bike and reach over for a sip of beer without having to pause.

Shack last

I’ve been banging on that guitar for forty years. It’s a little worn, but then so am I. The broadside is a Galway Kinnel poem, “Little Children’s Prayer,” which joins a small group of signed broadsides in the shack, featuring poems by Jane Hirshfield, Arthur Sze and Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge. Alas, I’m running low on wall space.

 

 

Video of New Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith

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In this P.O.P (poets on poetry) video on the Academy of American Poets’ site, Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith reads a section from her poem “My God, It’s Full of Stars,” Seamus Heaney’s “Digging,” and discusses whether poetry should address political issues.

And to Sleep

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And to Sleep

and what we
sense if not
of our selves

or within this
space we contain
may be of

no thing touched
by one’s fluttering
eye as if

awake we see
even less the
dreams of course

real though we
hold them only
in our sleep

Another poem from the 80s. “And to Sleep” first appeared here in February 2015.

December Moon (1999)

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December Moon (1999)

If loneliness breathes,
then rain is its heart,

always falling to its lowest point
before receding. Water graces us

daily in all its forms – the slowest
drop, the line of ice on the wall,

your breath, so soft and even
in the cool night. But no one,

no thing, can fill the void of
departure. You exhale and turn

away, and the air, with its empty
arms, embraces the space

you’ve left. I feel this daily,
whenever we part. At forty-one

I’ve known you half my life
but have loved you even longer,

through the millennium’s demise
and all that preceded or follows.

The brightest moon for a century to come
is but a shadow in your light.

 

This first appeared on the blog in October 2015. It’s hard to believe that I wrote “December Moon” nearly eighteen years ago. Busy with books, work and life, I didn’t write much in the nineties. But this, the last poem of that decade, recently surfaced. The sentiments are as true today as they were then. I am a lucky man.

streetfog