Friday, July 28, 2017
My dear, talented friend, Njord James created this ad for my book. Generous on several levels as he is an author himself (The Vikings, The Story of the Maya, and coming September 1st, The Hidden Hollow.) Nevertheless, he took time away from touting his own work to tout mine. What a guy!
Monday, July 24, 2017
Creating "Digging the Day"
I had a great time writing this beat poem. It's one of my longer efforts and it took several weeks of cajoling my brain to complete it. Those who inspired it are long gone, but their brilliant writing lives on. (check the afterthoughts below)
Extract from "Digging the Day"
"Living alone without talk is how I feel my peace,
However, that moon in my head is now again speaking to me,
loud and with great truth,"
Afterthoughts for "Digging the Day"
“[...]the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”
Jack Kerouac-"On The Road"
Man is an artifact designed for space travel. He is not designed to remain in his present biologic state any more than a tadpole is designed to remain a tadpole.
William S. Burroughs
“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war, ”
Allen Ginsberg-"Howl and Other Poems"
Monday, July 17, 2017
Creating "Man In The Bath"
To some, it seems there is no other choice. I did not know this man, but I wish I could have told him there was.
Extract from "Man In The Bath"
Published October, 2015 in "Blue Pepper." My first ever published poem. Thank you, Justin, I still love you for that. The poem is also written in its entirety in "Big Questions, Little Sleep."
Still shrouded in darkness,
Newly coated with red algae bloom,
Lies in wait,
For what, it's not known,"
Afterthoughts for "Man In The Bath"
Look for me in the whirlwind or the storm.
The storm came. Lives were washed away. Ancient pains resurfaced. Now it is time for a sea of change.
Be true to yourself. Make each day a masterpiece. Help others. Drink deeply from good books. Make friendship a fine art. Build a shelter against a rainy day.
Thursday, July 13, 2017
I wrote this one for my honey. Enough said.
It was published in Blognostics.
You may read "Petals" in its entirety by clicking here:
Afterthoughts for "Petals"
Sensuality without love is a sin; love without sensuality is worse than a sin.
Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?
A virtuous character is likened to an unblemished flower. Piety is a fadeless bud that half opens on earth and expands through eternity. Sweetness of temper is the odor of fresh blooms, and the amaranth flowers of pure affection open but to bloom forever.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
Creating "The Glass Windows behind the Plants"
My younger brother, Philip, left this morning to go home after a 4-day visit. One year ago, he underwent surgery for the creation of a neo-bladder after cancer was found in his original bladder. This is very rough surgery. I spent several days at the hospital with him post-surgery. His recovery was slow and painful in the beginning. I have a severe fear of heights. He asked me to write about our journey up and down the hall as he got used to the "new him."
"The Glass windows Behind the Plants"
The Glass Windows Behind the Plants
They stood together in the hospital hall,
Each with a seemingly insurmountable fear.
He with a path so long, and the burden he carried so heavy,
She unable to lean forward from the eighth floor.
Together they promised each other,
One step at a time, one tile at a time,
Each step closer to the end of the hall,
Each tile closer to the window.
He went further,
She went further.
He channeled gazelles, swift and light,
She channeled eagles, high flying and fearless on the air.
His hospital gown trembled,
Her legs trembled.
At the end he’d walk the length several times
and had looked up and seen her smile,
At the end she had pressed her forehead
against the glass and looked down
And he smiled back.
Afterthoughts for "The Glass Windows Behind the Plants"
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.
I think fearless is having fears but jumping anyway.
I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship.
Louisa May Alcott