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. 

Blogging - is it worth it?

I've been exploring this morning the impact blogging has had on my life as a poet. Which has brought me to a realization that it is difficult to imagine it otherwise. For the sake of this post, I want to acknowledge that my reference to blogging includes not only my own, but the blogs of others that I read.

I could certainly write poetry without blogs. I have in the past. Certainly people were writing poetry before the advent of blogs. It seems to me that there are several areas that I could touch upon where blogs have had an impact on poetry for me personally.

There is exposure to other poets. This is a critical point for two reasons. There are other poets I may well never have made contact with were it not for blogging. Among contemporary poets, there are many extraordinary individuals writing today that I would likely not have been exposed to simply through libraries, local readings, or bookstores. This is not simply a matter of personal enjoyment of the works of others, but in some instances it includes email communication with others writing that have allowed me to network in a much broader circle then otherwise possible. And beyond enjoying the reading of poems by some of these individuals, I firmly believe that those who write MUST read.

Poetry bloggers provide fresh material on an almost daily basis. It is no substitute for reading the works of well established poets who are published, but by the same token, if I were limited to the pool of such poetry, I'd be missing a lot of very good material and in many cases newer subject matter or experimental work that I'd never find in a bookstore.

Through my own blogging, I've had people come my way just as I have been exposed to others. It is definitely a two way street with respect to networking. People have given me feedback that has been helpful.

There was a time when I was participating in two poetry groups and two additional writing groups. That was very time consuming. I've cut back in that area and have done so without sacrificing my exposure to others or their exposure to me by way of the Internet and my blogging.

Just to name a few individuals that blogging has brought me into contact with- whose work I might not have otherwise easily connected with:

• Ivy Alvarez
• Eileen Tobios
• Kelly Russell Agodon
• Jayne Pupek
• Christine Hamm
• Aleah Sato
• Jilly Dybka

Those are just a few that quickly come to my mind. I don't know that any one of those I would likely have come into contact with if it weren't for blogging. Perhaps Tobios, but probably not. Still, exposure to each of these individuals and their work has been invaluable to me and the progression of my poetry writing. Clearly if someone would ask, I'd have to say the blogging experience has been worthwhile.

Another Journal Bites the Dust

Sunday evening and I am bemoaning the near end of the weekend. I think mostly because last week seemed like five Mondays in a row. I anticipate this week being pretty busy too It seems my caseload at work has risen with no consideration for my already significant commitments. There should be laws against such things.

Oh, before I forget... Happy Birthday to Ivy - She's 34 according to her own account. My God, I barely remember 34.

There are lots of sirens very nearby - I presume by both the sound and the numbers they are fire trucks. We don't hear them out here as often as back in the city. Certainly not a cluster of so many at once. Certainly makes one pause with some prayerful thoughts. The dogs too seem unnerved by the sound.

I am about to finish filling up yet another journal. This latest one was started on September 29th, 2007 and having only like two pages left, I'll likely finish this one off yet tonight. I was looking back at some of my work in the previous journal recently. It always seems to feel a bit peculiar looking at things you've written in the past. Since many of my drafts start in their crudest form in the journal before subsequent revisions make it to the computer it can be an eye opener sometimes reading these things. You just have to wonder where your mind was sometimes.

My side bar so badly needs changes. For one thing, the blog listings is so outdated. There are several on there I used to read but don't any longer because... well, mostly because some of them haven't been updated since middle of last year. It's time for those to come down. Also, there are a few more worthwhile blogs that I try to catch on s somewhat routine basis. Also, if you have linked to Stickpoet and I've not reciprocated, drop me a note so you can be added.

I'll close tonight with these words from John Steinbeck... "I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts."

Looking at a new copy of Poets & Writers (Jan/Feb 2007) I noted that it is their 20th Anniversary Issue. They have a really neat time capsule that runs through the magazine for each year since inception with A picture of a cover for the perspective year, the current Poet Laureate, Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction, Notable events, names of those in covers, News and trends, and a quote. I am a bug fan of this magazine, so I naturally found these annual composits to be entertaining to read.

I saw where congratulations are in order for Ivy Alvarez as she is already slated for inclusion in a 2008 Anthology of Younger Poets. And some of us haven't even started on 2007 yet. Actually, I think she get kudos for both being anthologized as well as still being able to be considered a young poet.