Tag Archives: relationships

Day Thirteen, Tupelo Press 30/30 Project, August 2016

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pearls

My poem “It’s Not With Us” has been posted among today’s offerings of the Tupelo Press 30/30 Project (9 poets have agreed to write 30 poems apiece in 30 days, to raise funds for Tupelo Press, a non-profit literary publisher). I am grateful to Debbie Fuller, who sponsored and provided the title.

It’s Not with Us

Don’t look back. You can never look back.
          Don Henley

Remember how he smelled of tires
and every night you drew a new
card to place under the pillow – …

Click here to see the rest of the poem.

Tomorrow’s poem, “Missing Loved Ones,” was sponsored by Emily Bailey, who provided the title, and Tami Wright, who offered three words: Ganymede, oblivion and ubiquitous.

I could use your help – sponsorships and donations have dwindled. 11 title sponsorships are still available, and don’t forget about the 3-word sponsorships. And remember, you can combine the two (as in tomorrow’s poem) to force me to use not only your title, but also three words that I’d likely not use on my own. And can anyone challenge last year’s co-winners of Worst Title in the History of the 30/30 Project, Ron, Plain Jane and Mek?*

The  sponsored poems are a blast to write, and the titles lead me to poems I’d not otherwise conceive. If you’re inclined to sponsor a poem, Donate to Tupelo, and please let me know as soon as possible what your title is or which three words you’ve foisted upon me.

If you need something to read, Think Dink! A $30 donation will get you my 2015 chapbook If Your Matter Could Reform, Barton Smock’s Infant Cinema, Jamie Hunyor’s A New Sea, and Tim Kahl’s full length work, The String of Islands, thanks to the generosity of Dink Press founder and editor Kristopher Taylor!  A limited quantity is available, so order earlier rather than later.

For information on sponsorships (and my other incentives), click here.

Thank you for supporting poetry! Only 17 poems to go!

* The titles are, respectively, “Calvin Coolidge: Live or Memorex,” “Your Armpits Smell Like Heaven,” and “Reduce Heat and Simmer Gently Without Cloud Cover, Till Sundown. Serves 2 – 7 Billion.” “Nose-Picking Reese’s Hider” is definitely a strong contender for this honor.

His Softness

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shoes

His Softness

What name would survive
had you not stepped into the water

that day? Memory assigned
a separate word, another given,

and the face I’d placed with you
appeared in front of me

fifteen years later, in another
setting, miles away

and still breathing. How
may I honor you

if not by name? I recall
the gray ocean and how

umbrellas struggled in
the wind, and reading

in the weekly newspaper
a month after

that you had never emerged.
Now your name still lies there,

somewhere, under the surface,
unattached yet moving with

the current, and I,
no matter how I strain,

can’t grab it. Time after time,
it slips away. Just slips away.

.* * *

Many thanks to Sarah Rivera, who sponsored this poem and provided the title during last August’s Tupelo Press 30/30 Challenge. “His Softness” was published in January 2016 in the inaugural edition of Mockingheart Review. I am participating in this August’s 30/30 Challenge, and appreciate any support you’re able to provide – good thoughts, encouragement and donations to Tupelo Press are all welcome.

Forever

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Forever

Our dogs hide under the bed,
escaping thunder.

But the sun shatters
a cloud and I know

we will live forever.
Each hour is the sky,

every day, another
star. Now the trees

join the wind
in rejoicing. This

is what we make,
they say. Only this.

* * *

“Forever” made its first appearance in July 2015.

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Shadow

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image

 

Shadow

walking,
crushing juniper berries
at dusk

the dog shadows me
in his absence

* * *

“Shadow” first appeared in April, 2015. It could be considered a companion piece to “Mother’s Day,” which is included in the July 2016 edition of The Lake.

image

Two Poems in THE LAKE

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Lake

I’m delighted that two of my poems are appearing in The Lake, a poetry webzine based in the UK.

Roof Charm

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roofmoon

Roof Charm

What is home if not exile to the familiar?

A serrated kiss at the closet door.

We duck our heads and cook meals undercover,
the sun’s rays deflected.

And every relentless     day finds
our hands     wanting.

The black shawl, unfolded.
Wax melted on the whetstone.

You say stars shiver despite their light.

You say one hand      mirrors its mate’s      arc.

I say warmth flows through you, the roof     our sky.

glare

Nine Variations of a Cloud

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night window

Nine Variations of a Cloud

1
Looking up, I renounce pity and the sadness of wind.

2
Only lust pulls and shapes more, diminishing your integrity.

3
It slips through whenever I try to grab it.

4
Every phrase is a window glowing at night, surrendered to its frame.

5
Water in another form is still water.

6
In whose ruins must you survive?

7
Another shape, another moment desperately spent.

8
And still you thrive in diminishment.

9
Bearing nothing, it conceals.

“Nine Variations of a Cloud” first appeared in Kindle Magazine in December 2015, and was also included in Gossamer: An Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry.

 

windmill

In the Place of Cold Doors

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cold doors


In the Place of Cold Doors

We have a word for everything,
or seven for nothing. Soon

you’ll enter and I’ll talk
on the other side,

watch for signs in every
dropped crumb,

every nailhead and
embedded phrase remembered

in another’s voice. The light
will dim and I’ll look for rain and

go on speaking. My words will wander
unnoticed. You hear only yesterday.

 

“In the Place of Cold Doors” first appeared in Gossamer: An Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry, published by Kindle Magazine in Kolkata, India. I was thrilled to have several poems included in the anthology.

nailhead

Bone Music

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goldengate

Bone Music

But how to reconcile the difference? Consider
drag force, velocity at impact, position,
surface tension. Gravity. I drink more wine
and drift, trying to recall that last conversation,
those few sentences revised in the moment,
exhaled and consumed in passing. It’s
likely that fractured ribs lacerated the heart and
lungs, or severed major arteries. Sometimes
words evaporate, leaving behind only the faintest
residue. Or they might absorb the ocean’s power,
the beauty, the blackness of the deepest
nocturnal canyon or the weight of a dying
high mass star’s core, crushing any deliberation,
any attribution, with remorse. Sky above,
the earth below, silvered leaves. A shared moon.
This fluttering from great heights. The outward
thrust. The shearing. A fluttering within. Each
morning I acknowledge pain and fear, refleshing
the night’s bones phrase by delicate phrase into
numinous forms greater than their divisible
parts, their intractable sums, into bodies and
shapes extracted through a moment’s glimpse,
brief afterthoughts groaned across the opening
blue, saying I was right, I admit inaction, I
confess it all, water, water, I knew too little.

“Bone Music” first appeared in Gossamer: An Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry, published by Kindle Magazine in Kolkata, India. I was thrilled to have several poems included in the anthology.

moon

Poem Featured at Algebra of Owls

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armpits

The editor of Algebra of Owls has seen pit, er fit, to publish my poem “Your Armpits Smell Like Heaven.” The poem was written last August as one of my offerings to the Tupelo Press 30-30 challenge and fund-raiser; the title was sponsored and provided by Plain Jane.

Fellow poets might consider submitting poetry for consideration. Algebra of Owls is a new publication, and I believe their interests extend beyond body parts.