Experience for Life = Material for which to Write

I promised myself that I would use my May break to write up a storm and I’ve discovered that this is nowhere near the truth. I’ve barely touched my writings. I wake up and throw myself into the day. My day is long and tiring, yet filled with awesome things. And by the end of the day I can do nothing but collapse in my bed and sleep till it’s time to rock and roll tomorrow.

My professors stress that writing is important but so is actually going out there and living life. You have to have material and experience to draw from to have truly deep and enriched writing. As a cliche example: how can you write a captivating piece about a sunset if you’ve never seen one?

So I refuse to be disappointed in myself. The work I am doing is awesome, and important, and I’m learning so many things. So far during May break I’ve met new friends, grown closer with old friends, have helped move a few people into their new living arrangements (my station wagon is like the wardrobe to Narnia, you can fit more into it than you can ever imagine), I’ve gone on a kick butt camping trip with my poetry family, and I’ve actually gotten to draw some.

So here’s a glimpse of some of what I’ve done this summer.

Me and some of the poetry gang

Torching some metal for a small pour

More metal working

The final product, bronze doorknobs

Well there you have it! until next time,

Cheers!

Jilted Lover

Jilted Lover, I’m quite certain that’s how my blog feels right about now. I’ve not made an update since my November trip to Beaufort (which went wonderfully by the way). So I should probably catch you up on the writerly things going on…

I have successfully finished my first year of graduate school and am passing with a 4.0 (all that writing/studying is why I’ve been so distant lately, sorry bloggers). It feels great to be back in school though I do admit it has completely taken over my life. In other news, I will be teaching English Composition 101 to my very own class of college freshmen next semester.

I have been writing like crazy: flash fiction, short fiction, lengthy memoir pieces, and of course, poetry. I have several pieces sent out to journals across the nation… still waiting to hear back from them though.

The newest editions of the Birmingham Poetry Review and PoemMemoirStory are out and available for your reading pleasure. These are two publications that I am on staff with. So you should go read those things considering how much time I and my colleagues spent on them. Wonderful publications.

Tonight I got to sit with several published writers and listen to their journey down the publishing path. It seems very complicated and daunting, but I’m up for the challenge. I guess I have to actually finish something first don’t I? I have been working on my illustrations and hope to have several more lino cuts done by the end of summer (actually I hope to have all of them done.) Here’s a peek at the most recent one I’ve finished.

I still feel like I have forever to go. Just chewing through it one bit at a time.

oh and I did just get back from Monroeville (the literary capital of Alabama). Some pretty exciting things happened on that trip but that’s another blog posts. Don’t worry I promise I’ll post it soon! anyway, hope things are well in your world!

~Cheers for now!

Ode to the Frustration of the Fitness Ball

Balancing Act

They vehemently deny me the use of a chair

for my sit upon, choosing instead to supply

a fitness ball for those times when “you might

be sitting down.” But my legs are too short

for this rubberized globe, so I find myself balanced

on the North Pole with my feet splashing

round near Australia. But after thirty minutes

on the Arctic circle the butt turns numb and starts

to slip towards Southern territories, namely the

Tropic of Cancer because that’s when my feet

touch the ground. But then my knees stick out

and seem to catch every cabinet handle. My sciatic

is thrown out of shape but the chiropractor doesn’t say

anything when she realigns my back in the very

same place as last time and the time before. So

with bruised knees and a sore spine I’ll continue to

sit, sway and fall on this accursed fitness ball,

waiting for the next free co-pay day.

 

 

To an Unknown Tree

Was digging back through some some old works tonight and found this one. I composed many brief offhanded poems under this tree on the campus of my jr. college. Though I was a frequent visitor beneath it, I never did discover what kind of tree it was. I always forgot to look it up once I got home. So here you go, enjoy.

 

Here I sit

once again

beneath this unknown tree.

I would try

to identify

but its boughs are stripped of leaves.

My knowledge does not serve

to know it by its look.

And i’m awfully short on hand

of my knowing field guide book.

Yet that doesn’t steal the pleasure

I gather at its base.

And it doesn’t stop the sun

shining warm on my face.

Hands of My Grandmother

Hands

Fingers long and thin

Knuckles knobby

Palms straight

Hands thisa way hands thata way

One with the beings thoughts

Conversation could be muted

Yet you could still know the words

Just by the hands

However,

Stop the hands

And conversation would cease

Hands

Both in motion

Sometimes only one

The other resting from previous flight

Hands

Made from fingers, knuckles, and palm

Fingers never straight when talking

Always slightly crooked

No pointing allowed

Unless it is with the knuckles

The palm is used often

Sometimes in a movement

As if shaking salt from it

Sometimes held as if a sign

Where you could read the words

Upon the surface

Hands

Hands

Such are the hands

Of my grandmother