Average Productivity + Public Appearance

I have been Twittering and not blogging. It is not unusual that I not be blogging, so Twitter is a plus there. Not much to report, except that I have at last completed the first of four sections of the big multi-media collaboration with Julie Puttgen and Jim Carlson. I will be presenting the prelude of the work at Megan Volpert's book launch for The Desense of Nonfence at Wordsmith's Books in Decatur, GA on January 10th at 2pm. Also appearing at the launch shall be Lara Glenum. Cool!

Gertrude, could you hand me a plane?

Gertrude, could you hand me a plane?
No, not that kind of plane, though I am intrigued that you have that handy –
If that were the kind of plane I need, that one would probably be much too small, though –
Yes, now that is the kind of plane I need.
Soon I will need a level.
Yes, it is level, but that is not the kind of level I am talking about.
It is a beautiful foundation.
Yes, they both are.

My Self-Published Book!

My collection of Tiny Bedtime Stories is now available at Blurb.com. They were originally written on Twitter to ze frank's @bedtime account. Now they are edited and illustrated and for sale at cost. It is all pretty satisfying, really.

I'll Go Gentle If I Damn Well Please

pace Dylan Thomas

I'm not the sort to rage and fuss and fight,
That kind of raving never was my way;
But I'm still young and wonder if I might.

The wise may guard themselves from foolish fright,
The old won't quail at calling it a day;
But I'm still young and wonder if I might.

In all, I think I've tried to do alright
And framed some words that no one else could say.
I'm not the sort to rage and fuss and fight.

Though fear tempts me to just turn out the light,
It's only cowards skip the end of play;
But I'm still young and wonder if I might.

While I have strength and love and hold them tight,
I'll live as if I had more time to stay.
I'm not the sort to rage and fuss and fight.

For now, my life, keep clear of that sad height.
Curse patience while it gets me through the day.
I'm not the sort to rage and fuss and fight,
But I'm still young and wonder if I might.

Good thing I wrote several poems this weekend

I will be reading my poetry at the Decatur Book Festival at the local authors stage (Java Monkey) for 15 minutes some time between 2pm and 4pm on Saturday, August 30, 2008. I am pleased and honored to have been invited to perform.

Unfortunately, I have concluded that it would not be appropriate to wear my 60's stewardess outfit on this occasion and will be dressed less suggestively.

And, here is another poem I wrote this weekend:

WE'LL HAVE A WAR WE NEVER FIGHT

We'll journey far
into the night

We'll track a star
we never sight

We'll often say "Bu-bu-bu-buh?"
and always answer "So what, huh?"

We'll never have a glorious "Wha?"
and never give a flying fuh
.
.
.

Sonnet No. 36, or “That Guy Who Was at the Cocktail Party”

Sonnet No. 36, or “That Guy Who Was at the Cocktail Party”

There were some charming pieces I once wrote
And posted to a famous magazine.
And then one day arrived a little note.
It said my work was not the best they’d seen.

Now to be honest, that is not quite so:
I was rejected, though I don’t know how.
And that I was, somehow, I’m sure I know.
It bugs me now and then, but mostly now.

I write these twiddling trifles all the time-
Everyone ignores me, yes, I know.
It’s not just tedious of me to rhyme,
Iambic pentameter bores them so.

‘Twas good enough when Shakespeare wrote this way,
I know that he, too, suffered in his day.

and now . . .

This is just to say,
I wish I didn't know

he wasn't really talking about plums.

I'm no Lorax, but I do love trees

I have revised the poem about trees, and I could not be more pleased with how it came out.

Here is the link.

Fun with Signs in Tennessee - Part 1!

.
Signs are fun everywhere, but it looks like Sewannee, TN is fixing to lead the pack for me personally. Here is one that inspired me particularly:

the 4 seasons restaurant will be closed until spring
4 in this case being a mathematical symbol unrelated to any tangible concept in the material world-
seasons being, in their way, tangible.
Restaurant names generally are in the same category as car model names,
will suggest or connote and won't or can't really signify or
be convincing, predictive signs of what is supposedly signified.
Closed for one out of four would be three seasons, and therefore logically impossible.
Until we get stricter about names this sort of thing will continue to happen.
Spring is what we need, some kind of renaissance, maybe.

(For proof, there's a picture at the link to Ratsalad DeLuxe above!)

from junior year of college - way on back

a stab at a kind of modified ballad meter in modified sonnet rhyme -

Oh my, old seasick Captain Red,
Out drinking in the park,
Still smashing empty bottles green,
Still draining others dry,
Recall what made your spine go soft -
which sailors left to die
in groaning wooden galleons tossed
in blood and ocean dark.

And what strange lands you may have seen,
and what quaint fables tell
of captives bound with golden chains
at noble ladies' whim,
of fishes gasping empty air
who never learned to swim,
who loved the ocean only once
but claim they know it well.

My iron captain crawled to shore
when water turned him rust.
His salty smile will never speak
of what he understood:
Uncertain feet that roll on land
remember only wood
and fear they'll sink him to his neck
and drown him in the dust.

Oh my, old drunken Captain Red,
still dripping on the shore,
You'll cough up twenty bottles worth,
and - thirsty - call for more.

haiku resurfaced from memory

from 4 or so years ago, a time when I had an office with such a view:

distant Stone Mountain
floats on a dark haze of pine
Mount Fuji it ain’t

the big tornado

-
-
A bunch of windows are themselves blown out.
Usually other things are blown out of windows.
This is not, technically, irony -
and some things were, in fact, blown out of those windows.
There is not much that is conceptually contradictory about it,
except that broken glass closed off Luckie Street all weekend.
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-

and another pantoum -

.
these were discussed earlier.

This one is about trees, and I am very happy with it.

hate getting political

but sometimes it happens -

my country right or wrong

exclamation point, backspace
period, backspace
question mark, backspace
comma, backspace
enter

pruntiform - the usual thoughts about traffic

Seems like all the people want to drive in this lane.
Like this lane has something special about it -
All the lanes are headed the same way.
The traffic is dense and darting, inefficient -
People display a monstrous lack of patience.
Want is a state, it is desperate, has private motive.
To satisfy want, people are moved individually -
Drive unpredictably and that can cause accidents.
In this town, everyone is from elsewhere, each drives differently.
This lane must have special qualities, must seem worth the trouble,
Lane changes being so dangerous.

chicken and egg - here's two

It’s in my eye but not all the way in.
In among my lashes, it is touching some nerves.
My pulse, accordingly, accelerates.
Eye lid flutter, turn to shelter from the wind.
But - don’t touch -
Not big, not a lash, not a bug, just some ash, soon gone.
All it amounts to is a second of anxiety.
The danger of pain feels so real the
way it stops a moment
in another moment.

chicken and egg - here's one

You gotta love contractions!
Gotta get those verbs outta the way!
Love’s okay, though - most of the time it’s a noun.
Contractions make everything simpler.

things look difficult - linking Credit Slips.

" . . . more credit card issuers are refusing to cut interest rates to help out consumers in trouble"
Here is the link.

One in ten homeowners are under water, also.

Everybody in the industry (and many out) should have seen this coming. I wrote this silliness sometime around 2004. My mien of outrage was not sufficient to convey an ongoing infinite thought process at the time, and the piece is weak. Things would be different now. (A rewrite and binding in paper form might be in the works once Julie and I land on the same planet again sometime.)

*sigh*

He said duck, you goose.
He said something is flying
just over your head.

insufficiencies,
no good service of process,
no jurisdiction

a bad customer,
the bank has now sued you-
note: certified mail.

true stories make dirty poems

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There is a suspicious package in the loading dock.

It has been inspected.

Ok, all clear.