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Archive for June, 2010

A Good Day To Die

Awaken to Henry crawling over the bed. Good coffee. A breakfast of strawberries with Henry while Regina studies for her BAR exam. A long walk. Sun burning white overhead. Stop at the organic grocery to buy: chocolate, salmon, peppercorns, and lemon. Stop at the liquor store to buy beer. A swim in a cool pool. A shower with Henry. A mystery novel out on the deck underneath the sun. Gin & tonics. Bombay Sapphire. Feeling extremely blessed. Tonight: salmon over salad with a hoppy beer. The only thing missing is a late night cigar and throw of stars. I would not be anywhere else at this moment in time.

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I have vowed not to blog about the inane or banal, and so for the last few weeks I have ignored “Light Travels Faster Downhill”. We’ve been moving west, across the Mississippi, into Minnesota. We’ve made the move slowly, over the course of several weeks, inching north first to Eau Claire and then in the last week to Arden Hills, Minnesota. My neighbor informed me today that Arden Hills is one of the safest places in the country. It isn’t hard to believe. It is suburban beautiful and sleepy. The most violence I have witnessed was a murder of crows chasing two hawks through the canopies of several cottonwoods. But then again earlier Henry and I walked past a deer not 500 yards from our front door.

We now reside in a townhouse within a greater townhouse association. We have a two-car garage, three bedrooms, more square footage than we know what to do with, and not one but two bathrooms. In the morning there is no odor from the Oscar Mayer plant where I once toiled, nor is there is the wafting breezes from a nearby Burger King. There is a din of white noise off 694, but that is all. The bird-life is impressive and beyond our windows stand several one hundred year oaks. There is a swimming pool and it nice and cool. Reidar, Regina, Henry, and I swam happily yesterday as a family of ducks scooted across a nearby lawn. The old people in the neighborhood always smile and coo at Henry. I haven’t heard any gunshots and the prostitutes and addicts appear to be scarce. It is not unnerving, it is comforting.

We’re almost settled and soon I’ll begin blogging again in earnest. But I thought to check in today. To report that we are happy and well. Go Team USA. Go Landon Donovan. Godspeed America, there is always the distraction of grown men chasing bouncing balls across a pitch of green grass. Always.

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This is music.  This is a performance.  These men were great Americans.  Godspeed.

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Good news! Three poems were just accepted by PANK magazine for publication in early 2011. This is a great publication/website/organization and I am very proud to have my work accepted by their editors. Maybe this is the beginning of the inertia I was sensing.

http://www.pankmagazine.com/

In other news, my editor at “The Lumberyard” just sent me proofs of the Roark issue due out in about a month. YOU WILL NEED TO BUY A COPY OF THIS ISSUE. Deftly designed, “The Lumberyard” is a publication of the future led by Jen Woods who I think is going to turn out to be a publishing visionary. I’m proud they believe in my work. (You can find a link to their website on the side of this blog. YOU NEED TO PURCHASE ISSUE #6. SUPPORT THIS PUBLICATION!)

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Braille

Braille

Your body will be my braille
in the days when my eyes may
fail. Already those seashells in
my ears are going away with the
tides to become reefs, but your
body, your heart is my only
music and touching you in our
bed I know also the sounds of
winged creatures paired off for
all times and those lions in love
or the whales even now moving
through the darkness of this
planet’s sleep. Your body will
be my braille in the sweet
hereafter and in the velvet of now.
And were I illiterate, you would
make me genius, your light a
lantern to fill my chest with love
and goodness. My own husk is
an imperfect paper. But it is true
that you are my papyrus, my
morning scroll and holy book and
your body is my braille.

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About a month or so ago I completed my first poetry manuscript and sent it off to Typecast Publishing, who I have high hopes of publishing it. We shall see. Two days ago I organized and completed my first collection of short stories, a manuscript that weighs in at about 200 pages. I feel good about my everyday production and I’m organizing some more thoughts and structure in regards to my first attempt at a novel. I feel some inertia.

This despite the fact that I haven’t had a piece accepted for publication in about seven months, a period of time in which I have received twenty-three (23!) straight rejections. I don’t think my style of poetry is very en vogue at the moment, though I am confident that there will eventually be some kind of sea change. I have altered my own expectations for my own poetry in reaction to what I construe as a surplus of snarky, pseudo-humorous, selfish, poetry out there. I read all too many poems without heart. Poetry for hipsters in cafes pretending to read. I want to write poetry that people read in hospitals. Big-hearted and decent poems. Poems to last.

Not much to report. Henry is doing fantastic. A second tooth seems poised to cut his gums. He is cruising around the house and seems very close to walking. This evening he ate black beans and rice for dinner. Regina is studying for the Bar exam. We visited the farmers’ market today and strolled around downtown Eau Claire. I mowed my Mom’s lawn and the Gullicksruds’.

Wish me luck. Those manuscripts are full of good writing and I want for them to be read.

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