Dead Snakes

Some people like their snakes dead. I like them very much alive, thank you. I have a neighbor who killed my snake and doesn’t think I know about it. I will have to address that at some point. Black racers are harmless, beautiful creatures that are a boon to any Florida garden. Yes, it’s my snake, because I’m the one who gardens around here. The neighbor just wheels around on his wheelchair exclaiming how (1) if he still had his legs, he could dig faster than me and (2) nobody can grow corn in the front yard. He may be right on one accord. 

So I’m thinking about dead snakes because some time ago poet Stephen Jarrell Williams was kind enough to publish a poem I had written in his journal, Dead Snakes. Much of the work found there revolves around themes of poison, danger, mystery. My own work that appears there spilled out of a dream. It’s called Spill. I hope you enjoy it. 

And let the snakes live, people! 

Free Zhu Yufu

What a world we live in where a man can go to jail for sharing a poem. I much lament the American ambivalence toward poetry, but the Chinese take it quite seriously indeed.

I was ignorant of the plight of poet Zhu Yufu until my friend Russell Streur opened my eyes. I’m grateful to him for creating an online petition and generally fostering awareness of the egregious imprisonment of a man who shared a poem via Skype. While I’m grateful, I’m afraid I’ve also grown obsessed. Luckily Russell provided me a poetic outlet for that obsession by publishing my poem, “7 years for us” on his new poetry project in support of Zhu Yufu, The Bamboo Forest. I hope you will read the words there, and be moved to sign the petition. If you are also poetically inclined, submit your own words to this beautiful space. As an incentive, Russell offers: “Win a year in a Chinese prison.” Ah well, so I’m persona non grata. I didn’t have any plans to visit that country anytime soon.

Additional background information can be found at the Guardian. Did I miss something – where is the American press on this? I hope we’re not ambivalent about human rights abuses, as well.

The poetry clause

Ain’t no money in poetry / That’s what sets the poet free / I’ve had all the freedom I can stand.

That’s the opening refrain of the chorus of Cold Dog Soup by singer Guy Clarke. Yes, all my poet friends can speak to the veracity of the sentiment. So the fortunate of us wordsmiths have a day job. Freedom isn’t free after all. And I wonder: if you’re one of them, do you let your poet flag fly? How many of your co-workers know of your literary proclivities?

I have a pretty easy-going existence as a freelance writer, ghost writing for business coaches, reporting on cultural events and business issues for newspapers, profiling folks in the local law community.

And I also write poetry. Some of it’s dark, weird, and off-color.

And as I think is wise to do, I keep my ear to the ground for potential full-time employment that might suit my skills and (with any luck) passion. People use the Internet to check out potential employees. I wonder what a prospective HR director would think of poetry that parses out dreams of eating one’s laundry, or a less-than-charitable break-up poem?

I would like to know from those who manage to maintain a business existence along with a poetic one: do they necessarily have to be separate? Is there a poetry clause in the shareholder’s agreement?

Mad Rush

As the name implies, this new literary magazine is becoming an epicenter of activity. Poet Craig Scott managed to generate a real mystique for the entity before it even was an entity. He received a deluge of submissions for the first issue. So many, in fact, he extended the deadline more than once to accommodate the quality literature flooding his inbox.

It’s easy to understand why. Aside from being a Facebook buzz wizard, Craig’s no fly-by-nighter. Working under his nom de plume, he edits the now-seasoned Ten Pages Press, which publishes 10-page e-chapbooks, and is an accomplished writer himself, whose work I know many of the contributors admire. You can find out more about him by listening to this interview with Vox Poetica’s Annmarie Lockhart, as part of the 15 Minutes of Poetry feature on BlogTalkRadio.

Mad Rush will be published this spring in real-life paper format! Find out more at its web site, including the line-up for the first issue, and the striking front and back cover photography by David Tomaloff and Eleanor Leonne Bennett. I am pleased to be part of the line-up and will post updates with ordering links and other information as they become available.

Update: the first issue is available [here].

The blog title? Explain

I was fortunate to have this poem published at Mad Hatter’s Review Blog this past August. It’s kind of crazy, and that’s just what the editors like, so I guess it works. I’ve always been fascinated by diaspora. The word feels good in the mouth when I say it. It’s a bitter concept. Recently, I also had the good fortune of becoming part of the Fictionaut community, and this poem seemed to have been well received. I hope you will enjoy it, along with my future posts. Feel free to comment on anything you’d like. It doesn’t all have to be about poetry, but sometimes poetry seems like all there is.

***

Any migration is forced

Gravity’s not downward

but a pull between. If
you’re bigger than me,
I’m gonna come to you

just how it works. Don’t
mind the plastic caddy of
Lysols, my multigrain will
replace your white inflammation.

Let’s put some shades over
the bare hanging. I’m not
going to change you I
promise: I’ll wait up.

Any migration is forced.
Diaspora is how I show
I care. Remember: I’m the
one who had to assimilate.

It’s what was best. For you.