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A world without love is not yet a world.

-Morianna Gaiaweave

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Poem: Endless Novel

This poem recently appeared as Poem of the Week at The Toucan, a wonderful literary venue that generates all kinds of fun controversy, all of it harmless and ultimately informative and even edifying. Lot's of great poems too!

You can view "Endless Novel" here, if you wish:

Owl At Toucan

Thank you for reading and thereby braving a glimpse at my inner world.

OWL

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Endless Novel

obsession is a hydra
his fingers cannot slay
on the chopping block
of a keyboard--
too many necks of words
soft as maggots,
wide as cottonmouths,
multiplying with every strike,
the chapters like bellies
engorged on the chum
of his distress.

his need obvious,
the dark raw call,
toiling to get lost
in a creepy tickle like seaweed.
no life vest
and the threat of eels on the shin.
he summoned this ocean,
walked his plot into its monsters.
he liked the way the brine opened,
seduced him with its gape.

the heroine reached up,
mermaid-wet,
to clench his devotion;
and he went down happily,
ensnared in her braids.
his focus twisted into an astrolabe,
uncertain of its own science,
second-guessing reality
as the climax died.




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On the 400 Gods of the Empire

It has been announced, and even fact-checked, that 400 individuals own as much wealth as the bottom 50% of the population:

The Empire's Gods

This, of course, is something that has developed over decades. A slide into darkness, perpetuated by continuous government/corporate collusion, an ugly relationship convincingly argued in the recent book "Winner Take-All Politics."

Sadly, the citizens of the Empire, instead of focusing on this apostasy at the highest levels, have turned on each other, their rage stoked by penury and general immiseration.

The conclusion is that we are dunderheads, yes, with invisible rings of hatred through our noses, clipped to chains of political rhetoric that keep us braying and gnawing at each others' lowly heels.

Meanwhile, the rich transfer more and more capital into their names, hiding money out of sight in foreign banks, and nurturing lucrative enterprises overseas, where none of us peons can take notice, let alone benefit.

I suppose all Empires in the past have crumbled this way, first slathered in gold, then infected by greed, and finally tumbling in the pull of an internecine gravity.

Shame on us all. May the future forgive. If there is a future, that is, which our huge military cannot pre-emptively annihilate in the forthcoming anomie.

OWL

Acceptance: Turbulence

Turbulence Magazine

My busy schedule is wearing me down--but I would like to thank the Editors at Turbulence, a UK magazine, for taking two of my most honest stinging critiques of society: "History Lesson" and "Game Daze." These poems don't tiptoe around my disgust and they even resort to expletives.

And yet the open-minded and unbowed Editors at Turbulence don't shy away from harsh expressions that lack politesse. Good for them.

Conformity is, for the most part, a dangerous monster of oppression and denial.


OWL

Poem: Long Term Snow

Note: If you are looking for my poem "Owl" please go here:


OWL


This poem was originally published in Rougarou, the lit journal of the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. You can read it there, if you wish:

Owl Meets Rougarou

This is probably one of the best poems I ever wrote. Once in a long while, a poem just flows...

Thanks for reading!

OWL

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Long Term Snow

no fleeing this drifter
dogged as barnacles,
stark as lichen on bones,
callused and clumped.

we simply endure
the landscape-wide nevus,
a discoloration to Earth,
leprous for the rest of us—

who must flounder
in its tasteless cakes,
sinking through layers
to the hidden frost—

we eat our way out
and still freeze,
victims of plenteous ice,
champions of numbness.

it attacks goldenrods
as if they were vocal chords,
dismaying time, seizing
pendulums of pokeweed—

holding them in stasis
or cracking them off,
like skeleton keys
that unlock nothing
save their own descent.

we all suffer that wintry fate,
buried without wanting to know,
encased by the coffin outside.

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Greed Inside and Outside the Empire

Inside the empire, the governor of one State (Wisconsin), destroyed the public worker unions. He did this even though the majority of the people were opposed to it, and the unions had already agreed to all monetary concessions.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/03/10/AR2011031005940.html


On this, let me relay a great paragraph from Paul Krugman's Op-Ed today:

Like anyone who writes regularly about what passes for economic and fiscal debate in American politics, I’ve developed a strong tolerance for nonsense. After all, if I got upset every time powerful people were illogical and/or dishonest, I’d spend every waking hour in a state of raging despair.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/11/opinion/11krugman.html


Outside the Empire, it becomes clear that the US is continuing to support its dictator-puppet in Bahrain:

After weeks of pro-democracy protests — at times more than 100,000 people have massed in the streets — the royal family has pledged to enter a dialogue with the demonstrators after their initial crackdown killed seven people.

So far the dialogue has not happened. But in contrast to the uprisings in Egypt ... Washington has continued to back the government of the Sunni royal family — to the growing consternation of the largely Shiite protesters.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/12/world/middleeast/12unrest.html



Adding a surreal clown-like aspect to this debacle, Secretary of Defense Robert Gates whined about the Afghanistan War, which is ten years along, the longest war in US History. Just last week, US bombings killed 9 boys chopping wood for fire, mistaking them, somehow, for 'the enemy'.

Anyway, here is Gates whining:

Earlier Friday, in Brussels, Mr. Gates sharply rebuked the United States’ allies for preparing to effectively abandon Afghanistan, threatening what he described as tenuous progress in the nearly decade-old war.

In a deliberately undiplomatic speech to NATO defense ministers, Mr. Gates called on European allies to put aside their domestic politics and work with the United States to secure the “semblance of normalcy” that he said was emerging in some parts of Afghanistan.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/12/world/middleeast/12unrest.html


"Semblance of normalcy." "Tenuous progress in the nearly decade-old war."

Isn't that pathetic.

My country has turned into a cruel parody of a champion of justice--except it isn't funny because atrocities are happening and people are suffering and dying.

Michael Moore summed it all up recently: 400 Americans own as much wealth as the bottom 50% of all Americans, over 150 million people.

Viva La Greed!

My Poem Featured At Bolts of Silk!

"Attunement" is currently the featured poem at one of my favorite journals, Bolts of Silk. Yay!!! Simply go to the website and there it is:

Bolts of Silk

If you are reading this post more than a few days after it was posted, use this link instead:

Attunement at Bolts of Silk

Juliet Wilson edits this fine journal, which is approaching its 5th Anniversary. She is one of most impressive leaders for environmental protection that I know. Her own writing, as in her chapbook Unthinkable Skies, exhibits a sensuous and intimate connection to the natural world around her.

"Attunement" is one of my shortest works, and yet everything came together in a marvelous symmetry of sound, shape and meaning. I don't know how it happened. The poem just wrote itself.

Thank you for reading!

OWL

Poem: Small

Note: If you are looking for my poem "Owl" go here:

Owl

This poem recently appeared in an incredible journal: Scythe. To see it in the magazine, and another poem, "Commute", go here:

OWL in Scythe


To see my review, wander hither:

Plaudits for Scythe

In any case, thank you for reading.

Life trundles on in a cruel-kind ambivalence.

OWL


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Small

i dissolve
into the gyri of a metropolis,
feeling like protein juice
swilled by an AI.

as if Twitter were galactic,
my sentience small.
vesicle in a capillary
of a hive.

what purchase
in this asphalt nest?
how to nudge the orbits
of vain colossi?

justice
bursts in me like a nova.
i have comets and craters
for tears.

but the great black
eye sockets of empire
pass right over,
as if i were a planchet.
nothing there.


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Acceptance: Moulin Review

Moulin Review is a literary and arts journal staffed by the Windmill Writers of Brookhaven College in Dallas. The quality of the writing is topnotch and, as a sweet bonus, artwork accompanies the poems and shorts. To access the web version of Volume 2 (Spring 2010) follow this link and scroll down:

Moulin Review

There are about ten poets in this issue, including some well-known wordsmiths who have dedicated their lives to the craft. The skinny, though, is that all the poetry is good, not just a few gems.

My favorite artwork is “Stephanie” by someone identified only as Zareh. Let me emphasize that the visuals are just as wonderful as the writing. It’s a soul-strumming pleasure to read a few powerful stanzas and then savor an evocative photograph or prodigy of brushstrokes.

The impresario of this outstanding journal is editor Erin Marissa Russell. A fairly large staff is involved, including web experts, reviewers, and advisors. Elena Harding co-edited Volume One with Russell.

Although relatively young, Moulin Review is off to a fantastic start. Brookhaven College should be proud. This journal is on par, or superior to, collections from much larger campuses. Let’s hope that Russell gets plenty of plaudits.

And a big THANK YOU to the whole team at Moulin Review for producing something extraordinary.

My only criticism is that there is no Table of Contents. This means that you have to explore to find out what treasures are inside. But maybe that’s the point.

My poem “Mud” is scheduled for release in Volume 3 (Spring 2011). I'm honored! And I'm looking forward to receiving my hard copy in the mail!


OWL

Poem: Genetics

This poem was recently published in Viral Cat. To see my other two poems, and to check out this great lit zine, go here:

Read Viral Cat


I'm honored that "Genetics" occurs alongside a very cool and engaging artwork called "Rabbits" by 222 art crew. I would ask to buy "Rabbits," if I had any decent amount of money. Go to Viral Cat and check it out!

In any case, thank you for reading.

OWL

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Genetics

we started as eggs
and eat eggs, and put our
signature on how
they are made. nothing
gets born that didn’t
offer up its future.
we are germinal
and the terminus.
e. coli our crown.
we polish enzymes,
re-splice their slant.
deoxyribo-
nucleic spin.
we are Organism.
our decrees
spiral through codes,
hunting brain cells
with hungry scopes,
until we find you.

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