I live in fear. I cannot recall a moment of true peace. If I can build an encasement of words to secure my being I am somewhat assured of survival. So, poetry is self-preservation for me. I carve out an existence through the exploration and excavation of language.

So after months of struggling with my self-perception of my writer-self I am feeling a rush of energy and purposefulness in my writing life. I spent several hours today revising fourteen or so poems and submitted them moments ago to four journals. I did not submit them simultaneously.

I can claim my writer self again since I am DOING IT.

Wish me luck! 

We are pleased to inform you that your work, “4-way Stop at Dusk,” originally published in Farmhouse Magazine online in May 2006 has been selected for inclusion in The Best of Farmhouse Magazine Anthology. 

Yay!

Louisiana Poet Laureate Darrell Bourque will no longer be reading verse and teaching literary arts. At least not in his official capacity. Last week, as the Legislative session wrapped up, Bourque received two form letters from Baton Rouge informing him that he had not been confirmed by the Senate, and thus by law, the position he held had become vacant. 

The why.

This is all kinds of wrong.

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
I’m crying.

Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

Mister city policeman sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row.
See how they fly like lucy in the sky, see how they run.
I’m crying, I’m crying.
I’m crying, I’m crying.

Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog’s eye.
Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

Sitting in an english garden waiting for the sun.
If the sun don’t come, you get a tan
From standing in the english rain.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.

Expert textpert choking smokers,
Don’t you thing the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty,
See how they snied.
I’m crying.

Semolina pilchard, climbing up the eiffel tower.
Elementary penguin singing hari krishna.
Man, you should have seen them kicking edgar allan poe.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.
Goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob g’goo.

Love this tune.

I called for my daughter to bring me paper and pen to write in the bath.

Whatever it takes.

We just returned from our 8 day vacation/family reunion in North West Montana. It was GLORIOUS. My husband was born in Whitefish. It is our second home because we feel so at home there. We are exhausted but so happy.

Something great will happen soon.  Expect spectacular photos. See you on the flip side.