Why Young Chicks Cross the Road

Why Young Chicks Cross the Road**

Young rooster's calling, hear him crow.
The farmer's in the barnyard, tho.
He will not see me cross the street -
loose chicklet running to and fro.

The broody hens are fat and sweet,
content to keep their breasts and feet
inside the coop, behind the wire,
surrounded by the corn and wheat.

But I am young and filled with fire -
a pullet cheeping with desire.
The only other sound's the beep
of blaring horn and screeching tire.

The road is scary, stark and steep -
but I've a cock I've yet to meet
and eggs to lay before I sleep
and eggs to lay before I sleep.

**Thanks to editor, C. Sharpe, at Folly who took a chance and published this....and who consistantly puts out an ezine of top-shelf, high quality "lite verse" several times a year.

Every Mother's Nightmare

Got an email at 5AM this morning from my Oregon son.....the heading of the
email read as follows: "BAIL ME OUT OF JAIL"
Uh huh - just what a mom needs to read when her son is 3000 miles away
and her bank account reads $0.00 and even if it didn't, she has no idea
where the nearest Western Union is located.

Fortunately for all of us, I did manage to open the email and read
a little further before panicking and calling my own mother
for money.

The body of the email was as follows:

This year, I have the honor and pleasure of participating in
MDA's Salem Telethon Executive Lock-Up 2006 to help "Jerry's Kids®".
To reach my goal I need your help!

I'd like to include you or your company on my list of contributors
who are helping me reach my goal. Your donation would help MDA
continue the important fight against muscular dystrophy. Check out
my web page by clicking on the link below. There you'll find all
kinds of information about MDA, and be able to make your tax-deductible
donation on-line using your credit card.

MDA serves people in our community with neuromuscular disease by
providing clinics, support groups, assistance with the purchase
and repair of wheelchairs, braces and communication devices,
and summer camp for kids. MDA also funds research grants to
help find treatments and cures for some 43 neuromuscular
diseases that affect people of all ages, right here in our community.

I sincerely hope that you'll take the opportunity to support MDA.
If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call or e-mail me.

On behalf of the families MDA serves, thank you!

Warmest Regards,

Jeremy Kudlo
Click here for Participant's Page

Click there - help get my pride and joy out of jail.....you'll be glad
you did - it'll be the first time you helped a friend's child out of
jail and had it be tax deductible!!!!

Tons of Good Things Goin On

WOW!! Talk about a stellar day. And it's a Friday no less.

Things I am happy about and thankful for:

WORK
Health Insurance which come with my job. A job I like. A job with a physician who promised me a health care plan after 6 months of employment but has now decided to give it to me after I've worked only one of those six months. In 24 days I will no longer be part of that miserably frightened group of Americans known as "The Uninsured." Insurance is a terrible thing to try living without...and an even worse thing to try dying without. Fortunately for me, in less than four weeks I will apparently no longer be in danger of having to attempt either.

POETRY
Fourteen Magazine and its editor, Mike Loveday who sent me an email today notifying me that I had made the final cut and my sonnet, Monkey Girl, will be appearing in the Summer Issue of the magazine later this month. YAY for England!!! This will be my first "overseas" publication.

Mary Alexandra Agner, a woman and poet I much admire, has seen fit to mention a poem of mine on her blog. She's got me with excellent company, I might add.....Katherine Lee Bates and America the Beautiful. Thank you, Mary.

A thank you to Anna Evans while I'm at it. Anna is the editor of the formalist/metrical journal The Barefoot Muse and somehow she's seen fit to list a link to this blog on The Barefoot Muse's permanent link page.

and on the home front:

This, The Times 2006 Illinois Male Athlete of the Year award, would be none other than one of my three favorite nephews, Erik Hanson!!! Way to go, Erik!! Congratulations on a job well done and an honor well deserved.

On a final and more somber note:
This happened today, which is not happy/thankful news, but considering my own first-born son was foolhardy enough to run in Pamplona three years ago, I am exceedingly grateful that it wasn't him this happened to. I do send prayers to the victim's mother and family, however, even as I thank God that Jason apparently inherited his mother's long legs as well as her winning disposition and managed to outrun his own particular bulls. I also wonder, now that he has a two year old son of his own, if he'll be doin that stupid shit again any time soon?

Life is good to me today. May it treat you all as well.

SHANTIH

"Confessional" it is. (Yoda inversion deliberate)

Shantih

No longer do I taste each tear,
or hear the sirens drawing near
(Is it not somehow much too strange
how rapidly the dreams can change?)
I hear instead, inside my head,
the rasp of tongue, the gasp of breath
from tortured lung and then, and then -
I rest content.
And then I know, the truth is told
this time - this time.

I roll across the crimson sheets
and as I stretch
you reach -
you reach -
and bring me down with tiger teeth.
Love, not for naught
does tiger prowl
and not for naught
does tigress crawl -
her belly low against the ground.

I hear the baying of the hounds –
(like mermaid songs that don’t belong)
and now I hear them singing where
the sirens always sang before.

Tonight, I hunger for the taste
of tiger tooth and tiger grace.
Somewhere in a different place,
I bruised, I bruised, I bled inside.
I hid before. I will not hide.
It's time, it's time.

The sirens lied.

The Raintown Review

Well, that was totally unexpected!! I received a copy of the latest issue of Raintown Review in the mail last night. Much to my surprise, I was in it!! I love when that happens. < grin > Totally unexpected, I might add. I was aware that the editor had taken three poems from me, but I was not aware that one of them was being used in this particular edition. In fact, I'm quite sure he told me it wasn't. My memory's often faulty, however, so I may have misunderstood.

Be that as it may, I have another poem in The Raintown Review. That makes me two for two with them, and that's a happy accomplishment for me.

What makes it particularly rewarding is that TRR is a damn fine journal. The poetry is all top rate and I'm proud to have been associated with it two editions in a row.

Don't tell anyone, but they still have another poem of mine and I'm hoping to make it a Three-peat next February.

Under Water

In Northern Virginia.....or why I now own a new car.

The New Blue Retro-Mobile

I'll show you why in a day or two....Meanwhile, meet the newest member of our "family."

Let Them Eat Cake...........

.....Let It Be Chocolate Cake.

It's "Poetry Thursday" - Again

Poetry Thursday

Seeking Definition

You tell me love is more
than moments spent
too artlessly entwined.
You tell me "Love is Fire."
I say that hell is hell
because it's kept
too goddamn hot.
You tell me hell
does not exist
and pull away in ire.

I tell you "Love is gentle
heat - The smallest embers
will survive." We agree to
disagree and love's left undefined.
These, I think
are moments.
You brush the hair
back from my eyes.

We settle back more cautiously
and watch the clock unwind.

On Finding Yourself

It's always interesting, and quite egotistical, to "google" yourself. Once I found out I was a porn star that way. (Well, not really "I" was....but someone who called herself "Heidy" was...and she also did me the courtesy of linking her site to mine....we don't look anything alike, tho, she's a brunette and I am a blonde. I'm pretty sure we're not even related.)

Late last night, along with the expected results, I also found I had been quoted on a web site called Quoteland.com - or more to the point - a poem of mine had been quoted there in The Flower Quote Game.

I don't know why I was so tickled, but I was. It's always good to find out people are not only reading your poems, but that they are remembering them. Especially people who aren't family or friends - and don't have to read or remember you.

Come to think of it, even my family doesn't read my poetry.

Huh.

That's weird. Or maybe not. They'd read it if they knew about. At least I think they would. Maybe. Most of the time I'm pretty glad they don't, though. It's embarassing more than it is anything else.

It's not "who I am." At least I don't think it is. Poetry's more like this secret vice than it is anything else. My dirty little secret.

One of em, anyhow.

Funny Test - Accurate Results

Thanks, Seth.

Find your own pose!

Colon Traits and Tendencies The Colon is the chosen pose of individuals who, on their own, seem awkward or remote. They may be the sort who responds to telephone messages with email, or spends their lunchtimes quietly pedometer-walking in lieu of socializing with coworkers. But when a Colonist finds its mate, together they acquire a grace and ease that surprises friends and family.

Comfort Zone The Colon is one of the Sea Sleeper poses. Other Sea poses you might try: The Ticket Puncher and Sixth Posture of the Perfumed Forest.

A Note About Coping Since Colonists rely so heavily on their partners to give them context and spark, the times when business or family obligations take one of them away from home can leave both sleepers demoralized. To temporarily fill the void, swap in a large, carnival-sized stuffed animal, making sure to keep candles, space heaters, or other combustibles well away from the bedside.

Desperation vs. Asymetric Warfare?

You decide. But don't trust what Rear Admiral Harry Harris tells you. It seems to me that he's a bit too slow on the uptake for me to take seriously. Apparently it hasn't yet occured to him that future suicidal inmates could conceivably commit suicide in the middle of the night as well as in broad daylight.

Some days U.S. policies absolutally disgust me...other days they just amaze me.

Three Guantanamo Suicides Under Investigation

"They hung themselves with fabricated nooses made out of clothes and bed sheets," Navy Rear Adm. Harry Harris told reporters in a conference call from the U.S. base in southeastern Cuba.

"They have no regard for human life," he said. "Neither ours nor their own. I believe this was not an act of desperation but an act of asymmetric warfare against us."

To help prevent more suicides, guards will now give bed sheets to detainees only when they go to bed and remove them after they wake up in the morning, Harris said.

Click Here for Complete Article

Good Things Come In Pairs of Two

My beloved Sea Lions are so "last week's news" -

They were good last week - but here's two good things for this week.

A friend of mine, Rose Kelleher, (who is a great formal poet in her own right) has put together a comprehensive listing of poetry venues which are "form friendly." While it's not too terribly difficult to find places to submit free verse it is much more agonizing and time-consuming to locate those few and far-between publications which appreciate the more formal varieties of poetry. Rose has somehow completed the herculean task of assembling many (if not most) of them in one place....and she's done so in her usual clear, concise and easily-understood manner. If you're a formalist, or if you've ever dreamed of becoming one, check it out - Venues for Formal Poetry

Secondly, I received an e-mail this week from a very poetry-passionate woman named Diana who is involved in something called Famous Poets and Poems.

Not only does she appear to be a very energetic and enthusiastic person, the site itself is also energetic and enthusiastic. Lots and lots of great poems and poets -and interestingly enough, many of them are also noteworthy and/or notorious "Formalists".

Let's hear it for rhyme and form!!! Two For One this week!! It almost makes up for having to work for a living and (once again) missing the formalist conference in West Chester, Pa.

Visit them both. It'll make for a Happy Saturday.

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Poems

Mo' Poetry Thursday - Already!!

Pegasus

When you were a bare-legged raggedy child
did you watch the sky for a white-winged horse?
Did you dance a delighted duet to wild
whispers until your father whistled - coarse

and tunelessly from the flower-less front yard -
and all the incantations went instantanously dead?
The fury so rapidly replaced the magic, and scarred,
unimaginably, your tangled twisted head.

When you were a child, did each tear turn cold before
it hit the ground and fed the worms? The earth
didn't care that it was conceived in heat - and what's more
the whistle warned you early on that birth

is, in itself, a kind of newly begun death. Never mind,
it didn't scare you nearly as much back then.
Do you still search the sky for horses of the unsafe kind?
If they flew there in the past, perhaps they'll fly again.

This time, silence the unoriginal fear.
The whispering of white wings are all you need to hear.

New Job - Day Three

Ugh...I forgot what it's like when your time belongs to someone else. I love the new job - I hate not having time for anything else besides sleeping and eating half-thawed TV dinners while half-asleep. This is the first time in my life that I've had a job AND a relationship. Hard work - hats off to those who've managed it for years and years. If you threw kids in, I'd never make it.

As for poetry -- What's poetry?

Wedding Report

What can I say? It was a beautiful wedding with a beautiful bride and a handsome groom and a wonderful time was had by all. The flights were nightmarish in the extreme....between my two sons, their mates and ourselves we took 9 flights (including connections) and only ONE was on time. Southwest Airlines is NOT the way to go!!!!! Besides their archaic and totally chaotic seating system, their flights just don't run on schedule.

Dan and I left DC on ATA at 130PM EST on Wednesday, 1/2 hour later than scheduled and arrived in Chicago at 2:40 CST. Our Southwest connecting flight was scheduled to leave at 5:30CST and we did not end up boarding until 9PM CST and then we sat on the runway until 11PM. We arrived in Portland at 1AM PST (4 hours later than our estimated time of arrival) and then had to wait over an hour for our rental car. We finally arrived in Corvallis and checked into our hotel at 430AM - which was 730AM "our time" - exactly 24 hours after we had gotten up the day before.

My two other sons and their mates were supposed to leave Chicago (on Southwest again) at 5:50PM CST on Thursday. Since they live fairly close to Midway Airport, they called ahead and were told the plane was running several hours late. They were advised to remain at home until 9PM and were told the plane would leave at 1030PM. When they arrived at the airport and checked in, they were THEN informed that the plane was "overbooked" and two of them could not take the prescheduled flight as planned. Apparently my oldest son went ballistic and insisted that they all be allowed to board as they were expected to be at a wedding rehearsal in just a few hours. One again, Southwest stuck by their "first come, first serve" rule and refused to issue them 2 of their 4 tickets. Finally, at the last possible moment, some very nice gentlemen who had heard of their plight turned their tickets in and wished them all a good wedding and they all boarded their plane - at 2AM. They arrived in Portland at 430AM PST - (630AM "their time") and proceeded to travel 2 more hours to our hotel. Only 8 1/2 hours late.

The bride's family came from Florida with very little difficulty - only virtually all of them (5 out of 7) had the stomach flu. Ick!! Putting things into perspective, I decided that I'd much prefer our late flights to their vomiting.

Friday was the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner which went well. Two bridesmaids had not yet arrived from Florida and one of the groomsmen was MIA, but everyone handled it well and the dinner afterwards was wonderful. The poor bride, who had done everything, and I mean EVERYTHING herself (decorating, flowers, favors, invitations, place settings, booklets, table settings, etc etc) had a migrane and went home early, but the rest of us stayed and stayed and got acquainted and reacquainted with one another. After that, the "boys" went to shoot pool and drink beers and the rest of us went back to our hotel rooms to collapse.

The wedding on Saturday was perfect - absolutely perfect. I cried buckets, as a mother is supposed to do, and everyone else cried with me a time or two. The ceremony was short and quite moving - they were married by a friend of theirs who is the Youth Minister at their church. It took place in an amazing setting called "The Barn" in Independence, Oregon and it was just beautiful. The kids had done all the decorating themselves and it was all white canopy and thousands of little twinkling white lights overhead.

After dinner we danced and danced. (Well, not me, I don't dance - but my feet moved alot under the table) and everyone was simply beaming. Speeches were made, jokes were cracked and kisses were freely exchanged by everyone.

I'll have pictures this weekend (I think) if anyone is interested.

We spent 3 more days in Oregon - one on Corvallis and two in Portland, and I'll write more about that later....for now, we're all safely home and sound - tired but happy.

The trips home were as horrible as the trips there were. The kids were each 6 hours late and we were almost 8 hours late - but here we are and I miss everyone already.

I'd do it again in a heartbeat - only on a different airlines.

For Today's.....

Bhauta

There is no safe tomorrow, only fear
which follows night. Anticipation waits
behind the sun, beneath the moon. I hear

the voice of God each time the wind abates -
each time a shadow falls - each time the rain
revives a drowning ghost then dissipates

to bonelesness in soft tearstained refrain.
I've been insane. I've been the woman, frail
and wan, with parchment skin. I've been restrained.

I've traced my name in raindrops on the pale
soft flesh of strangers until God foretold
the danger and the downpour turned to hail.

I've been afraid. I've watched the storms unfold
around me while my lover's lies grew cold.
I talk to God. He leaves the truth untold.

Travel Tales

This will be the last post for 10 days or so.

Tomorrow I am doing a "trial" day at a nearby doctor's office for a position as a "front desk person." I'm not sure what a front desk person does, but I'll find out soon enough. It'll be nice, I think. I'll still have "patient contact" but it will be limited to the phone and behind a desk and it fully meets my wish list of "nots." In other words, I will NOT be in a position to get puked on. I will NOT get blood on my shoes. I will NOT be in a place where I will get hit, slapped, scratched, punched, bitten or otherwise mauled. And, since this doctor specializes in Rehab Medicine, I will NOT be routinely exposed to things like meningitis, chicken pox, SARS, Bird Flu or any other exotic disease of the week. Nothing will be on fire, nothing will be underground, no one will shoot at me, no one will pull a knife on me, there will be no cars about to fall on my face, nothing will be underwater, nothing will be 40 feet above ground, no one will die in my arms, no baby will try to come out to greet me feet first in someone's dirty bathroom, and (mundane, I know, but) best of all - nothing will drag me out of bed on the weekend, on a holiday or in the middle of the night!!!! As an added bonus, as if all those things were not enough, this doctor actually offers health insurance after 6 months, vacation time, bonus money, AND a pension plan to add to my already vested previous employment....AND (I love this) I only have to work 3 eight hour days and 2 three hour days in order to collect all this good stuff. What's not to love?

And then, on Wednesday morning, we are off to Oregon for a whole honking week!!! My middle son is getting married on Saturday. YAY!!! He and his soon-to-be-wife have been planning this wedding for over a year now. All by themselves, since both of their families live far far away. It's a big job for two young kids and I'm extremely proud of both of them. I can't wait to see them. I've not set eyes on them for over 2 years now and I can't tell you how much I miss them. Dan and I will get there late Wed. night and then my youngest son, his girlfriend, my oldest son and his wife will all arrive together late Thursday evening. I have not seen any of them in months, either, so it'll be a grand reunion as well as a grand wedding. My mother, unfortunately, is old and ill and cannot make it but I've promised lots of pictures and a full retelling of the events. My ex-husband has not been invited, but they've asked Dan to stand in as family and we are both extremely touched by the thought and the gesture. It's not always easy to blend families, especially when part of the "family" is not legally hitched. Some people are funny about things like that--fortunately my children do not seem to be judgmental. Maybe that's a fringe benefit I didn't plan on when I tried raising them to be openminded and accepting of people and their differences. It worked, and I benefited. YAY accidental parenting bonuses!!!

So that's my story....and I'm sticking to it.

You all have a great week and I'll post pictures when I return.

Poetry Thursday - 2 for 1

Wow!! I can't believe it's already time for

again!!!

But it is....and so, here goes - with a twist. Two poems...one written by a male, and one written by a female. There has been so much talk lately about bias and gender and male vs female poetry that I'd like to experiment just a bit if I could. You tell me - which is which? How easy is it to tell the difference? (And, if you have the time - what tipped you towards your pick?)

______________________________________

Justine’s Sunset (#1)


Black and blue and blood-streaked sky,
pleasant-warm and moist
Desert hot at noon, and dry.
Is this your sunset choice?

Youth in Spring, when gentle gray
meant a calm, endearing rain
Gunmetal, thunderclaps in play —
No stigmatic foretold stain

Innocence is how you might
phrase that free and fertile time.
Yet your breeze is no less bright
for your red and welted clime

Heat, extremes, have driven you
to this madness, yet you love
Blood streaked sky, and black and blue
As below, so above.

___________________________________________

Justine (#2)

And are you waiting for Justine to break and cry,
her voice - the uneven colors of a faded bruise -
Her wishful dreams reflected in your jaded eye?

If left to her own devices, Justine will choose
to lie alone and bleed a deeper shade of red -
her voice - the uneven colors of a faded bruise.

She sings so soft that every other word's unsaid,
yet still she sings, and still she wants, and still she waits
to lie entwined and bleed a deeper shade of red.

She's lost between the chasm and the chain. Her fate's
the cruelest master - one who taunts her with her fears.
Yet still she sings, and still she wants, and still she waits -

and while she waits she wrings her hand and hides her tears,
obsessively, possessively - afraid to need
the cruelest master - one who tempts her with her fears.

And now she's kneeling just for you - for you, she'll bleed.
Are you still waiting for Justine to break and cry -
possessively, obsessively - afraid to need
her wishful dreams reflected in your jaded eye?

__________________________________________________

Blogger Gone Missing

Oh where or where has Jeffery Bahr gone
Oh where or where can he be?
His sites disappeared and his address is wrong
Oh where or where can he be?

Monday Morning Stretch

May 14, 2006

Oh, Hal, I don't think so.
Unless, of course, we do away with
Father's Day, too.

Now Spying on Americans

"After the New York Times disclosed the eavesdropping in December,
the White House dubbed it a "terrorist surveillance program" and said
it involved only international communications by people with "known links"
to al-Qaeda and its allies. The Washington Post reported in February
that about 5,000 Americans had been subject to eavesdropping under
the program and that nearly all of them had been cleared of suspicion."
May 12, 2006
Washington Post

Maybe back in February, the question we should have asked was
"Just how are you FINDING the international
communications without listening to the national communications first?"

If we had asked that question, we'd have had our answer this week....opps,
turns out they ARE listening. Well, they say they aren't, they're just
amassing our records for "data"....according to USA Today,
the telephone companies are removing the names and addresses of
their customers from the records they give the NSA. Just like Justice,
Data is supposedly blind.

How goddamn dumb do they think we are, anyhow? (I sound like Seth now,
don't I? Please tell me I sound like Seth.
I so much admire his rightous anger and his ability to speak it well)
Just because AT&T Inc., Verizon Communications Inc. and
BellSouth Corp. say they are removing our names and
addresses from the TWO TRILLION call records they have forwarded
to NSA we are supposed to believe that they are? Are we
supposed to believe that NSA doesn't know who we are? That NSA really
doesn't have that information? That NSA can't get that information?
My ass NSA doesn't have or can't access that information. It took me
all of 5 minutes to find
this, this and this for absolutely free
on The Internet. Like the government can't afford to do the same thing.

"Afford" brings me to another interesting point. Did you know that NSA
has no obligation to report it's budget to the people like us who
finance that same budget? That information, along with information
regarding it's size and workforce numbers is deemed confidential
under federal law.

Sweet, huh? Not only do we have no idea what the hell they're
doing to us, we also have no idea what it's costing us to let
them do it to us, even though we're the ones who are paying for it.
(and in more way than one, apparently.)

It's a good thing we're a rich country. It's a good thing we're a
rightous country. It's a good thing our government is concerned
enough about its citizens and our children that they are willing
and able to spend what probably amounts to billions on collecting
our domestic phone records in an attempt to locate International
Terrorists. It's a damn good that our tax dollars are being put to
such good use. Good, good, good, it's all just so damn GOOD, isn't it?

Oh wait -
United States ranks 2nd Highest in the Top 10 Industrial Nations in
Infant Mortality is not such a good thing. According to the CDC's
statistics (http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/nvsr/nvsr54/nvsr54_17.pdf)
on infant mortality, in 2005 there were just over 26,000 infant deaths.
That's TWENTY SIX THOUSAND babies -and that's about how many babies
die in the good old safe United States of America each and
every year.

I'm not a mathematician but I think it's safe to say your odds are
better of surviving a terrorist attack than they are of being safely
born....even though we've only been seriously fighting terrorists
since 2001, and we've been birthing babies forever.

It's all in the way your tax dollars work.

Just don't call me on the phone to talk about it, ok?

Today's "Poetry Thursday" Contribution

Damn....forgive me for saying this - but it's hard to just "pick a poem" and post it.

Anyhow - this is the one I've settled on. It's one of my favorites, although I can't tell you why. I think because it's rhymed, but not rhymed, metered but not metered, formal, but not formal. It's "not-quite-free-verse"!!! - It's free verse tightly reined and closely constrained - which is, when you think of it, perfect.

The Artist

You're painting me in chains - my aching arms
held high above my head, my hands restrained,
my legs spread open wide enough that worms
can crawl between the crevices and gain
control. Your dragonflies sew shut my eyes
while seven snakes sleep nestled in my hair.
Wild bees wax close my lips, my ears. My thighs
and hips are stilled by spider-webs. You prove
you're worthy to be hung in a museum while I -
I wear indignity as easily
as if it were a dress I could remove.

Poetry Thursday

Two bloggers, Liz and Lynn, have started a new blog, aptly titled,

The premise is simple enough, write them and they will link to you and you will, in turn, post a poem on Thursday. Doesn't even have to be your own, far as I can tell, although they request you honor copyright laws when using other people's poetry.

They are listing some guidelines for each week, but they are my kind of "guidelines" - the kind you aren't really required to pay any attention to.

Sounds like a worthwhile project to me - why not join them this week? Or, if you're not ready to join, read 'em this week and join 'em the next.

I'm gonna give it a try.....although, much to my dismay, I have to give it a try from someone else's computer - mine just up and died on me.....taking a whole bunch of un-backed-up poems with it when it went.

Ugh. I'm so damned depressed.

How Much Hair

Is in YOUR Sink This Morning?

Drinking & Driving & Rehab, Oh My!!

I'm sorry....but
this just irritates the hell out of me. I know that drug addiction and alcoholism are classified as diseases, and as such, they demand my respect
and my empathy. However, the fact that I spent a good portion of my adulthood trying to clean up after an alcoholic pretty much emptied my pity-purse for
good.

It's such an easy answer.....do something wrong, sign yourself into a
hospital. You just might get better and even if you don't, well, you've
at least assured yourself several weeks of peace, quiet and relative safety.
Not so your family, of course, they're the ones left holding the bag,
so to speak. But you, you'll be protected from anything unpleasant
like reporters, police officers, angry constituents, demanding bill
collectors, displeased bosses, disappointed family members, etc etc etc.

I speak from experience, obviously. When I was barely a kid myself,
in my very young mid-20's, my then-husband got into trouble at work and
signed himself into a rehab center. I was left at home with a young son,
a baby son and another baby on the way. Oh, and did I mention that I
was also penniless and jobless at the time? I had no way to pay the
bills, we had no heat in our apartment and I was getting daily calls
from his ex-wife, his bill collectors, his boss and his family
demanding that something be done. (As well as the occasional call
from the concerned bar-maid down at his local bar & tap....and
believe me, she was really concerned.....for reasons I was too naive
to figure out at the time) Anyhow, his visitors were restricted to me,
myself and I....and only for an hour on Tues and Thurs and every other
Saturday. The rest of the time, while I was scrambling alone to keep a roof
over our heads and food in our mouths, he was busy talking to
sympathetic doctors, nurses and social workers, attending group therapy
meetings, putting together jigsaw puzzles and just generally doing whatever recovering alcoholics do. All I know is, my kids were hungry and the
food there looked a damn sight better than what I was
putting on my own table at home. His counselors warned me repeatedly not
to "upset him" during this vital and important time. In other words,
I could visit, but I couldn't complain. Hell, complain,
I couldn't even confide. When my damn apartment building
caught on fire due to the faulty furnace leaving us with no place to
live, I was not even ALLOWED to tell him. Instead, I was left with
two kids and a pregnancy out there in the cold, all by myself because
to bother him with such a disaster just might interfere with HIS recovery.

Well, goddamn!!!! Maybe that's what "I" should have done, huh???
Gotten rip-roaring drunk and then signed myself into a hospital and
let someone take care of ME for a change.

Ok....I'm done. :) But ya know what, it felt good to just SAY it...
just this once. I've been "through" rehab a total of 5 times with two ex-
husbands (hmmm, do ya think something about me encourages addiction?)
and nothing about it left a lasting impression other than it appears to
be a lot more coddling than any one person deserves....regardless of his
or her disease. I don't think there's another disease in the world that gets
catered to so kindly.

But I digress.....Patrick Kennedy has taken the position that he's ill
and he needs help and he's seeking it pronto....like before anyone can
question him any further or before he has to prove he had honestly come
by his 'scripts for Ambien and Phenagren.

The only question I'd like to ask him is this - since he states he
has "no recollection of the events surrounding the crash into a
barricade on Capitol Hill early Thursday." then just how can he
be so damn sure that he wasn't drinking?

Drinking and Driving in DC, Oh My!!

So much depends on who you are and not on what you did.

0.8 - that's the legal limit in Washington, DC. Lower than most states, but there it is. Used to be a big fat ZERO, less than 8 months ago, but they changed that last fall in The Anti-Drunk Driving Clarification Amendment Act of 2005

However, if there's evidence of impairment present at the scene, they can bust you with a 0.5.

Let's see - "Evidence of Impairment."

Would that include such things as:

"Rep. Patrick J. Kennedy crashed his car into a security barrier near the Capitol early yesterday, and officers at the scene suspected that he might have been intoxicated, a police union official said."

"Earlier yesterday, Cannon said officers at the scene thought Kennedy was staggering and might have been intoxicated. They called for supervisors over the radio, and the supervisors drove Kennedy home, he said.

Cannon said officers were upset that supervisors prevented them from conducting a more thorough investigation, which might have included sobriety tests. "The officers just want to be able to do their jobs," he said."

"Police sources said officers noticed Kennedy's Mustang shortly before the crash because he nearly drove head-on into a Capitol Police car. The Mustang's lights were off, the sources said. The officer turned his patrol car around to pursue Kennedy, whose car then crashed into the barrier, the sources said."

"When police approached, the sources said, Kennedy got out of his car and said he was late for a vote. The House had not been in session for hours."

(all quotes are from the Washington Post)

I'm not a judge or jury, but that certainly seems like enough "Evidence" to me - of course, we'll never know, will we? No "common man" breath or blood testing was administered because the officers on the scene were overridden by their (far-wiser) superiours.

Thank God, tho, for those of us who are curious, all is not lost - We have an explanation!!! Two explanations, in fact!! Ambien and the newly reported (but as yet, unproven) Sleep-Driving Syndrome!!!! It's happened before - it's happened to others!! Congressman Kennedy is not alone!!!

Oh wait - if you read the article all of the other people actually DID get arrested....and many of them also admitted drinking "some" alcohol (including the lady who said she "didn't remember" drinking half a bottle of wine) as well...despite warning labels to the contrary.

Be that as it may, none of them apparently remembered what happened....not immediately, not when they woke up in jail, and not while giving a second statement to the press 19 hours later, either.

Gotta hand it to those congressmen - their selective memory process is so much more finely honed than that of their constituents....I suppose that's why we elect them over and over again....either that, or we're all victims of "Sleep Voting" and it's dreaded consequences.

_________________________________________________________

Late Entry
3:29PM

How the rich react when the going gets rough or why am I not surprised.

Men's Lifespan Is Catching Up with Woman's

This is the entire article: The Bell Tolls for the Future Merry Widow

This is the quote that sums it up:

"There is a lot of poverty among older single women, so if men live longer, that's good economically, for women and men," Ms. Hartmann said. "Men are generally happier when they're married. The women may not be happier, but at least they've got more money."

ElderLiPo

I'm still thinking about all the upheaval from a while back which centered on women and poetry. Are we truly snubbed? Do we truly snub back in retaliation? Is sexism rampant in the poetry/blog world? I tend to think it's all colored by perception, but I'm a notorious pacifist. Even so, it's raised some questions in my mind.

Some of it interests me, some of it offends me, some of it simply amuses me. Some of it, such as the bit below, does all three.

One of the more vocal feminist bloggers is also publishing an anthology in the near future. I thought to myself, "now there's a woman who's willing to put her money and time where her mouth is in a truly impressive manner to get more good poetry published and read" - I was truly impressed and, yeah verily, even a little bit excited - until I got to the part which excluded me and everyone else over a certain age. So much for poetic equality and evening out the playing field.

I think that's my point, though, any editor and every editor has a RIGHT to choose who or what to publish. Because it is their production, they are ALLOWED that privilege.....and it's either discriminatory all the way around or it isn't. Is it somehow ok to exclude someone on the basis of their age but not their sex? It's conceivable that someone could be a "new" "emerging" artist without also being a "young" one, yanno!!!! It's conceivable that I consider people in their 20's and 30's to be my "peers" and it's even conceivable that some of them also consider me to be one of theirs!! It's also conceivable that a woman could write a successful poem using a concrete "male" concept and that a man could write a delicate "female" poem about a flowering pink apple blossom tree.

In other words, if we are going to have "GirliPo," then, in the demanded "Order of Fairness", we must also have "ManliPo" and even "ElderliPo" recognized as legitimate genre. And I suppose we will need still more magazines and E-zines which no one ever buys or reads devoted to them each individually.

Why can't we just have plain old poetry? Have we grown so large and is the mansion so small that there are no longer enough rooms to house us all?

First Draft

If Art Should Ask


If Art should ask me did I suffer for
his sake, I'll tell him no - unless you count
the times I put the sky aside to core
an apple for a baby boy or mount
a child's butterfly with paper wings
onto a cold refrigerator door.

If Art should ask what song it is that sings
inside my heart, I'll answer quick, before
I've once again forgotten all the words
not written down - but if he feels he needs
an unleashed melody the cageless bird's
the better one to ask. She sings for seeds.

She does not know Art's name, nor does she care.
She simply sings the songs that God put there.

First Aid for Dummies

I was going through some old "stuff" this morning and came across these "rules" that I used to teach in First Aid classes for Boy Scouts, church groups, school groups, etc. Funny stuff - but good to know, anyhow.


STREET SMARTS FOR SAMARITANS

1. If it looks broken, it probably is.

2. If it doesn't look broken, it probably still is.

3. If it's straight, don't bend it.

4. If it's bent, don't straighten it.

5. If it's protruding, don't stick it back in.

6. If it's impaled, don't pull it back out.

7. If it's bleeding, cover it.

8. If it bleeds through your covering, cover it again - without peeking back underneath.

9. If it's really ugly, cover it twice. (Remember, if it's making you sick, imagine what it's doing to the owner of the ugly.)

10. No matter what it looks like, don't be trying to make it look like something else. It is what it is - deal with it.

11. If it's burnt, wet it. (Water only. If all you have handy is butter, save it for the toast.)

12. If it's wet, don't dry it. If it's dry, don't wet it.

13. If it's blistered, don't mess with it. Blisters are nature's own dressing. It's like being a natural blonde - nothing you can add or subtract will improve upon it.

14. If it's violently seizing, protect it.

15. When it quits seizing violently, move in, protecting yourself. Even a semi- seizing patient has no control - if you get hurt, it'll be your own damn fault.

16. Don't stick your fingers in anyone's mouth. (see #15)

17. Better yet, don't stick your fingers in anyone's anything. No one appreciates it.

18. If it's unconscious, watch it breath - carefully and continuously.

19. If it quits breathing, breath for it - also carefully and continuously.

20. If it fell, don't be moving it.

21. If you even suspect it might have fallen, don't be moving it.

22. If it looks like it's going to fall on you, move yourself.

23. If it fell into the middle of anything arcing, sparking, spitting or hissing don't go near it - regardless of your first inclination.

24. Don't move anyone involved in a motor vehicle accident. In order to protect your own neck in court at some later date, protect theirs in the seat where they sit.

25. If the car is on fire or underwater - ignore #24. Get them the hell outa there while protecting their neck (and your own) as well as possible. Worry about legalities at some later date - it looks much better if you're both alive to even go to court.

26. If it's too hot - strip it. (Within reason, of course - unless it's an infant - in which case ask the parent's permission and then strip da baby bare.)

27. If it's too cold - cover it.

28. Remember that no one's dead until they're warm dead - especially if it involves water or weather.

29. If it tell you it's going to die - believe it and act accordingly - only faster.

30. Make sure your scene is safe and secure before you rush in.

31. Remember that no scene is ever truly secure. Murphy absolutely adores a supposedly safe scene.

32. Trust what they tell you - believe what you see.

33. Once you've decided to do something, do it as if your life depended on it. Someone's does.

A TOO LONG RESPONSE TO

Steve Schroeder's Monday, April 24, 2006 post.

Yesterday, Steve Schroeder wrote that he was (I think) unhappy with Richard Wilbur's winning of the Ruth Lilly Poetry Award...mostly because of his age and the noticable preponderance of badly-aging poets who have previously won the award. Several people have chimed in and it seems the main two reasons people agree with him are:

1. That older poets shouldn't, for some reason, continue to garner recognition and/or awards.

2. That large monetary awards should not go to people who "don't need the money."

I have to say, I'm a bit appalled by both of these lines of reasoning. Our society is built on a system which continually rewards productive employees...and generally, the longer their tenure in a position, the greater the reward they receive. No corporation/business worth its salt rewards a short-term employee better than a long-term one. Bonus money becomes higher as your stature in a company grows, monetary compensation becomes larger as you "put in your time" with any given employer. Salaries only rise greatly for truly valued employees, as do perks and bonuses. People need to "prove" themselves worthy of recognition before they GET recognition and the best way to get your talents recognized is to be consistently good at what you do. What better test of talent and consistency than time?

Why should it be any different for a poet? Almost anyone can get "lucky" and write one or two very good poems....even one or two GREAT poems, for that matter....but not everyone can write great poems consistently over one, much less several, decades. Should we reward the "One Poem Poet Wonder" handsomely? Sure...why not? But shouldn't we also reward the guy who's plodded along for 20, 30, 40 or even 50 years and repeatedly given us great poems, as well? And who should receive more in the way of "reward?" - the One-Shot Dude, or the dude who's devoted his whole life to improving, enriching and perfecting his craft?

Regardless, due to the nature of The Ruth Lilly Award, which is awarded specifically for "lifetime achievement" the question is rendered moot. It's very simple, in order to win a "lifetime" award, you must prove that not only are you very good at what you do, but also that you have lived a lifetime. It's only the "old" people who can do the latter successfully.

Reason #2 is a bit more complicated. If I am reading the comments right, the theory is being bandied about that people who already have money shouldn't receive more money because they "don't need it." Try telling that to anyone who believes that they, themselves, are not entitled to recognition at work in the form of a raise or a bonus. The greater the recognition, the greater the show of appreciation. In our society money talks......money is the way we show appreciation and give honor for someone's accomplishments. To say a poet who's already won monetary awards shouldn't receive yet another monetary award is ludicrous. Would Hollywood decide to give the famous leading lady's salary to the walk-on starlet in her first performance simply because she "needs the money more?" Nope....she is going to have to prove she is worth it - just like the current leading lady had to....by showing the world her talent and her perseverance. (Maybe even her boobs as well - but fortunately that's not relevant yet in the poetry world.) A first year lawyer doesn't make nearly as much money as a lawyer with 26 years in the same law firm - nor should he. Think of the years you've already put in at your job, regardless of what that job may be - would you want to find out that a new hireling was making the salary and receiving the same perks as you? I sincerely doubt it....in fact, if it WAS ok with you, I'd be worried about your sanity.

The bigger point is - what gives us the right to decide who "needs" the money and who "doesn't" need the money? From what I can tell, Richard Wilbur is married and he and his wife raised and supported 4 children on his salary as a college professor. I don't know what his salary was during his tenure in the 50's and 60's - but if he were working today, based on the current pay scales, he'd be making anywhere between $51,000 and $85,000 a year. Due to the fact that he's been retired for quite some time, I'd feel safe saying he lived on (and saved) a whole lot less than that. Teachers, even teachers of the well-respected and long-term college professing variety, aren't in it "for the money" - simply because the "money" isn't there for them. Besides which, there are very few 80 years olds in today's world who will tell you they are entirely comfortable living on their pensions. Just ask my mother - or your own. Their life savings just aren't stretching with today's economy. I doubt that Mr. Wilbur feels any differently, or that his expenses haven't risen dramatically right along with the rest of ours.

In his lifetime, Mr. Wilbur's largest poetry awards have been 2 Pulitzer's, a stint as Poet Laureate of the United States and the Ruth Lilly Award. If you break that down, it's a total of $20,000.00 for the two Pulitzers, $35,000.00 for his year as Poet Laureate and $100,000.00 from The Poetry Foundation. That's a grand total of $155,000.00 over a career which began in 1947 when he published his first collection. In other words, he's been richly and repetitiously awarded to the tune of the grand and glorious amount of a whopping $2,583.33 a year.

You-all are right - no one deserves to receive that kind of money more than once.

Three Reasons - One Question

WHY???

A List of "Things"

Something I am (unsuccessfully) trying not to form an opinion on

Something I am (also unsuccessfully) trying not to worry about

Something I honestly don't give a damn about

A woman I'd like to be

A woman I'm glad I'm not

Things I see every day

Things I miss seeing every day

Something Steve Schroeder let me help him with that I enjoyed doing yesterday

Something I already did for myself today that I did not enjoy

My boyfriend's reunion trip which I am anticipating nervously

My son's wedding which I am anticipating joyously

What I really should be doing as soon as I am done posting this:

What I'm much more likely to be doing as soon as I am done posting this

PATRIOT GUARD RIDERS

CAUSE:



EFFECT





If anybody asks me, I have new heroes. My new heroes are fairly ordinary folks...who just happen to ride motorcycles when they aren't leading the same ordinary lives that we all live and who happen to believe that grieving families should have some privacy and some dignity and that if they need protection to get these things they'll be there for them. My heroes call themselves

THE PATRIOT GUARD RIDERS

and just yesterday they made a horrible time in life a little easier for the family and friends of Lance Cpl. Philip J. Martini in Lansing, Illinois.

I thank them, personally on behalf of my niece and her friends who were there to pay their last respects to a good friend, and, on a larger scale, on behalf of all of us, regardless of our views on the war in Iraq, who want and deserve to bury our dead in peace and privacy.

God bless you, Bikers, every one.

Richard Wilbur Wins Ruth Lilly Prize

Got this in an Email just now from the Poetry Foundation.

Way to go, Mr. Wilbur!!! A formalist, no less!!!
I'm beyond excited.

April 11, 2006
Media Contact: Anne Halsey (312) 799.8016;
ahalsey@poetryfoundation.org

RICHARD WILBUR WINS 2006 LILLY PRIZE
$100,000 Award One of Largest to Poets

Chicago -- Poet and translator Richard Wilbur has won the 2006
Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize. Established in 1986, the prize is one
of the most prestigious given to American poets, and at $100,000
it is one of the nation's largest literary honors. Christian Wiman,
editor of Poetry magazine and chair of the selection committee,
made the announcement today. The prize will be presented at an
evening ceremony at the Arts Club in Chicago on May 25th.

In announcing the award, Wiman said: "If you had to put all your
money on one living poet whose work will be read in a hundred years,
Richard Wilbur would be a good bet. He has written some of the
most memorable poems of our time, and his achievement rivals
that of great American poets like Robert Frost and Elizabeth Bishop."

Richard Wilbur has published over two-dozen poems in Poetry
since his first appearance in the magazine in February 1948.
Wilbur has served as Poet Laureate of the United States and
his many other honors include two Pulitzer Prizes, the National
Book Award, and the Bollingen Translation Prize. He lives with
his wife, Charlotte, in Cummington, Massachusetts.

Born in New York City on March 1, 1921, Wilbur grew up on a
New Jersey farm, was educated at Amherst and Harvard, and
served with the 36th Infantry Division. He was a member of
the prestigious Harvard Fellows and taught there until 1954,
when he moved to Wellesley and then to Wesleyan University.
From Wesleyan he went to Smith as writer-in-residence.
In 1987 he was named the second Poet Laureate of the U.S.,
following Robert Penn Warren.

"No contemporary poet has brought so much lived experience
into such formally perfect poems as Richard Wilbur. Entering
a Wilbur poem is a deeply civil and civilizing experience,
from which we emerge better human beings," said John Barr,
president of the Poetry Foundation. "The Poetry Foundation
is pleased to represent Ruth Lilly, once again, in giving
this major award to a poet as extraordinary as Wilbur."

Wilbur began to write poetry in earnest only after experiencing
the horrific chaos of battle during WW II service as an
infantryman in Italy. No poet of his generation has been
more committed to careful, organized expression or has more
thoroughly mastered the forms and devices of traditional poetry;
this conservative aesthetic and his deep love for "country things"
link Wilbur to the Roman poet Horace and to his fellow American
Robert Frost. He has also produced sparkling, witty translations
of classic French drama and several books for children.

Wilbur's books of poetry include New and Collected Poems (1988),
which won the Pulitzer Prize; The Mind-Reader: New Poems (1976);
Walking to Sleep: New Poems and Translations (1969); Advice to a
Prophet and Other Poems (1961); Things of This World (1956),
for which he received the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book
Award; Ceremony and Other Poems (1950); and The Beautiful Changes
and Other Poems (1947). Richard Wilbur's Collected Poems 1943-2004
was published in 2004.

Judges for the 2006 prize were poets Linda Gregerson, Don Paterson,
and Christian Wiman.

"A Barred Owl"
by Richard Wilbur

The warping night-air having brought the boom
Of an owl's voice into her darkened room,
We tell the wakened child that all she heard
Was an odd question from a forest bird,
Asking of us, if rightly listened to,
"Who cooks for you?" and then "Who cooks for you?"

Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear,
Can also thus domesticate a fear,
And send a small child back to sleep at night
Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight
Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw
Borne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.

From Mayflies: New Poems and Translations. (c) 2000 by
Richard Wilbur. Reprinted by permission of Harcourt, Inc.

***

Annie Finch + Nine

This has been a good week for finding new blogs. I've added ten new blog-sites to the sidebar and just to call them to your attention, I'm going to list them here, as well.

Annie Finch

has started blogging....always a good thing. Annie is one of my favorite living formalists and I, for one, am quite excited to be able to read not only her poetry but also whatever else she's going to have to say.

I found

Anne Boyer

Josh Corey

Jessica Smith

and

Craig Teicher

through the lively "discussion" on male/female bloggers.

I've also added

Out of the Woodwork by Brian Campbell

Bill Knott's new blog

and a blog by

Tad Richards

. All are enjoyable. All are well-written.

Finally, I've also linked to

~~WOMB~~

and

Formalista

which are basically two woman's poetry site with lots of good information for both women AND men.

5162 Colchaine

(more notes from the back of an ambulance)

In the white house on the corner
of Colchaine and 51st
there was a man who defied
gravity and managed to stay
standing for a day (or maybe two)
after he died.

The lights were off. His feet were bare,
his hair unkempt - as if he'd
woken thirsty in the night.
One hand was firm upon the faucet
while the other hand reached widely
for a glass.

They say that death's expected
by the old and the infirm, but I'm
unsure. He didn't lie serene,
he stood surprised.

April Is The Cruelest Month

The Waste Can by Dan Halberstein

It's that time of year again.....The least we can do is make you laugh.

I Am Woman - Hear Me Bitch

CAUSE

Poetry Off the Books

EFFECT

Jessica Smith

Seth Abramson

Craig Teicher

Josh Corey

Anne Boyer

Reb Livingston

Wow! Once again, sexism rears its ugly head. On the 'Net, no less - where no one even knows for sure how short the skirts are - or how big the appendage.

I've got to admit - it mostly bores me. Been there, done that, got over it. It's interesting enough to read that I've included an equal mix of male/female opinions (wasn't that extremely non-sexist of me - the equal number thing?) but its value, other than entertainment, is nil. I've worked in a male-dominated profession for more years than I care to think about and I know for a fact that nothing gets solved by arguing or name-calling or accusation-throwing. On the contrary, it usually only serves to make thing worse. The blogging poetry world is fragile enough - wouldn't a united front make it that much stronger?

For one thing, Craig is entitled to read whatever blogs he reads and to write whatever truths he sees - doesn't make it gospel, just makes it his particular view. Last I heard, there was no law which said you had to be gender-equal in your opinions, your articles or your reviews. If he likes Josh Corey and Ron Silliman enough to mention them then he does. That's his prerogative. It's also his prerogative to use them as examples of what he likes and not to be expected to include a female just because there are female blogger/poets to choose from. It's not life, it's not death, and frankly, it's not important. It's also not sexist. It is what it is - an honestly written article - the exclusion of a woman example doesn't make it sexist. I'll go a step farther and say that the inclusion of a female might have been even more sexist. Any time you're forced, by public opinion or fear of public opinion, to be "equal" the forcing party automatically becomes unequal due to the nature of the force. If I'm going to be included in something, I damn well want to be there because I was wanted, not because I'm there as an afterthought simply to satisfy some imaginary quota.

Speaking as a woman, we'll never be equal until we learn not to whine. "Equality" is something we can prove, not something we can demand. When I joined the fire department, I took the same test and I passed the same physical that the men took. I didn't grumble and groan (well, I did groan a little while I was hanging upside down with my knees hooked around the ladder-rung with the blood rushing to my head and the goddamn airpack slipping down and hitting me in the back of the neck cutting off my oxygen supply) but it wasn't because I didn't think I should be forced to take the same test - it was because I was dying.

Same thing with poetry....or blogging...or blogging about poetry. It's not going to do me any good to jump down someone's back because there aren't any women being mentioned somewhere - the only thing that's going to do me any good is to write better and to be more interesting and more consistent. I want to be noticed as a writer, as a poet, NOT as a woman. I can get noticed as a woman any time I want to - I don't need the poetry world to recognize me because of my physical equipment - I need them to recognize me because of my carefully metered brain - and I don't want my brain to have a gender identification card attached to it.

Sometimes we make our own beds and then we cry because we have to lie in them. No one has any problem with "Woman's" groups or "Woman's" sites.....I'm listed on one of them - WOMB and I belong to one of them - Formalista (Although, I hasten to add, Formalista not strictly for women only - and we do have a few male members - brave hearty souls that they are) However, if the high-heel was on the other foot, and there was a "Male" group or a "Male" site, many (most?) women would be appalled and outraged at their exclusion. How many men have railed against their exclusion in "Womb?" Please, don't get me wrong, I like the idea of being recognized as a "Woman Poet" - simply because I like being recognized as a poet at all......and I love WOMB and what it does and what it's trying to do, but it does bother me a bit to be classified as a "woman poet" and not just as a "poet." My point is, by virtue of these exclusive (and thereby excluding) groups, it's the women themselves who are automatically classifying themselves as somehow different by their very gender. How then, realistically and fairly, can they become upset about it when they feel they have been intentionally or unintentionally excluded from something by a male? Shit happens...sometimes it's not even deliberate.

Demand or Deserve - which works? Which works best? Which one would you choose as a means of getting recognition? Is it possible for women to get what they think they deserve without their first demanding it? And if not, is it worth it? Is it even valid at that point?

Does it matter?

Save Chippy!!!

Save Chippy from the garbage heap -
or worse - the fireplace.
He's very small and very sweet
he won't take up much space.

He's got Pinnoccho's old nose
atop an impish grin.
To let him burn in hell would be
a most disgusting sin.

He'll brighten up your every room
he'll bring your children joy
A hand-carved puppet's flesh and blood -
unlike a store-bought toy.

He'll move his arms and legs for you -
poor little wooden waif
So scoop him up and bring him home -
Keep Chippy sound - and safe.

Chippy can be found here:
http://cgi.ebay.com/
Wooden-Doll-Hand-Carved_
W0QQitemZ9508645020QQcategoryZ2446QQss
PageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem

Death Toll In Iraq Comes Home

LCpl PHILIP MARTINI
7/10/81 - 4/07/06

Northwest Indiana Times

Mercury Times

Phil's "My Space" Page

I've added a new counter to my side-bar. It's directly above the counter which tells me how many days we have left to endure the current presidental reign. I feel the two are related, but today is not the day to espouse my particular views on politics and war...or on the politics of war. It's enough to remind you that people are dying....very young people are dying and I wish they weren't.

I wish I didn't feel the need to add the counter - but I do. As always, war touchs everyone and my family has been touched this past weekend. On Friday, April 7, 2006, a member of my family joined all of the other grieving families and friends of the 2354 Americans killed in Iraq to date.

My 21 year old niece's friend, LCpl Philip Marini, was killed in Iraq. I have no details, I'm not sure the details are important. A young boy is dead fighting in a war he believed in and his family and friends are left bereft.

There is not much to say to a 21 year old woman who's lost someone dear. Children should not have to lose their friends. Parents should not have to lose children. Babies should not be called upon to lose parents. Wives should not lose husbands and husbands should not lose wives...not at 21 or 24 or 32 or 41.

I had no explanation to give to Megs.....and the only advice I could offer was to tell her to cry.....and the only consolation she has is knowing that Philip died doing something he strongly believed in....protecting his country.

"Here dead lie we because we did not choose to live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; but young men think it is, and we were young. "A. E. Housman

You were very young, Philip, and you were much loved and you will be very much missed.

A.D.D. , O.C.D. and Echo Lily

Rewrite

Salaam

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Genesis 4:9

Somewhere a girl with stick-thin limbs and veins
that run like fractured spider webs beneath
her parchment skin is waiting for a sign.
No angels have appeared, no gods have granted
immortality. She barely breathes,
but look! Her fingers twitch convulsively -
ten cornered mice who've spied the serpent's stare.
She speaks in foreign tongues to men that no
one sees. Her mother weeps, her father rails
against her worthlessness and sells her in
the street. Her value's nil, her price is low,
and no one intercedes on her behalf.
Eventually she'll strap a bomb around
her waist and send her innocence to hell.


Her name is Peace - quite possibly
she's our responsibility. She could be God.

Too Funny!!!

www.metacafe.com/watch/81866/funny_cats_2/

Some Things Just Speak for Themselves

THEN
Testimony Adds New Element to Probe of CIA Leak

September, 2003
"Let me just say something about leaks in Washington," Bush told reporters in September 2003. "There are too many leaks of classified information in Washington. There's leaks at the executive branch, there's leaks in the legislative branch, there's just too many leaks.... and if there's a leak out of the administration, I want to know who it is. And if a person has violated law, the person will be taken care of."

NOW
Libby Says Bush OK'd Leaks, Filing Alleges - Yahoo! News

April, 2006
WASHINGTON - I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby apparently had serious qualms about leaking classified intelligence to the press, but he was quickly persuaded to drop them. There was pressure from his boss, Vice President, Dick Cheney, who advised him that the president had authorized Libby to do so. End of discussion.

A Bridge Quite Close

With His Mate Wounded, George Tends the Nest


Who would have thought? A pair of eagles - right here next to the Woodrow Wilson Bridge.


I am hoping "Martha" recovers and "George" waits for her return.....but, much like people, he probably won't. He'll take up with the renegade female who beat the hell outa Martha, she'll move right in, rearrange seven years worth of branches and sticks and throw Martha's eggs out of the nest.


Eagles aren't the noble birds people think they are. On the contrary, they're nasty scavengers for the most part. Even if Martha hadn't been so rudely and violently removed from the scene by another female, her and George most likely would have trashed at least one of the eaglets themselves by encouraging it to fly too soon. 40% of all eaglets do not survive their first flight. Even before that happened, chances are only one of the two eggs would have survived even that long. Fratricide is common in Eagle-Land. An eaglet's survival is very much based on "the fittest" and parents are quick to allow the stronger/bigger eaglet to kill the smaller/weaker chick. American Bald Eagle - Nesting & Young They steal food, feathers, nest material and other eggs from smaller birds regularly. They're also quite fond of carrion. The fact that they CAN easily kill their own prey doesn't seem to stop them from snatching it from others or taking advantage of road kill......it's easier that way. American Bald Eagle - diet and feeding habits Less energy expended and all. Again, much like people.


I'd still like to see one, though. Just because. Knowing the truth may make them less majestic, but they're interesting in spite of their inherent evilness - or maybe because of it.


Maybe this weekend I'll take a short road trip to Maryland.



Blue Ridge


The eagle was thought to be the only animal capable of looking directly into the sun. Aristotle and Pliny wrote of this and added that the eagle tested its young by facing them to the sun, rejecting any that looked away
The Essence of Eagles - baldeagleinfo.com


Listen to midnight / at the edge of the eyrie / two egg-teeth chipping


Come carrion hour / each gray-downed half-winged fledgling / turns face to the east


Observe the sunrise / how it blinds men and opens / the eyes of eaglets

Kitten Corpse Sold

I knew it. I even said I knew it. I said it right here back on January 11. 2006:
Terminal Chaosity: "Holoprosencephaly"
She may not have sold it on E-Bay, but sell it she did.

I hate people. I especially hate people who do bad things for money and then
have the nerve to call it "religious."

AOL News - Corpse of One-Eyed Kitten to Go on Display
Corpse of One-Eyed Kitten to Go on Display
GRANBY, N.Y. (April 5) - The one-eyed, noseless kitten that inspired an
international debate last year over whether it was a hoax is coming to a
new museum of oddities in central New York.
The museum founder, who believes in creationism, said the kitten is
meant to launch another debate about how science and religion intersect.
The Oregon woman who owned the kitten said she turned down Ripley's
Believe it or Not! and sold the remains to John Adolfi of Granby
because she liked his religious reasons for wanting them.
"We didn't want Cy becoming a joke or part of a personal collection,"
Traci Allen said. "But John was so heartfelt, you could tell he was
genuine and sincere."
Adolfi would not say how much he paid for the kitten, named Cy,
for Cyclops. He said he plans to have it embalmed Wednesday
at a local funeral home.
The kitten died in December, a day after being born. Veterinarians in
Oregon said it suffered from a rare disorder called holoprosencephaly.
Cy will be displayed in a glass jar in the Lost World Museum,
which Adolfi hopes to open in nearby Phoenix this fall.
Other exhibits will include giant plants and eggs,
deformed animal remains and archaeological finds, Adolfi said.
copyright 2006 AP (picture removed by me... unfortunately link still works)

Mo' Rejection

Sigh - - - yet another rejection letter. Another form rejection letter. From Poetry this time. I should learn, and yet, I always hope anyhow. Maybe the grammer-school nuns were right....and I really am a slow learner. Sigh - - - again.

Winners and Losers

The Swift Competition ( http://www.swiftsociety.com/) has announced their winner and semi-finalists. For anyone interested in some really fine satire, this is the place to find it.

"My Dan" was a semi-finalist. His poem -
A Man of God Refutes a Man of Science
by Dan Halberstein


can be found here -- http://www.swiftsociety.com/2006_shortlist/flood.html

Funny funny stuff...and the meter and mood are perfection.

YAY DAN!!! You ROCK!!!!!!!!!


On a more somber note, I received my computer-generated rejection note from The New Yorker last week. It did not even include a salutation. It consisted of 1 and 1/2 lines beginning with "we regret" and ending with "sincerely, The Editors."

Ah well....I really didn't expect anything more. I just like it when people use my name or even take the time to add a "To Whom It May Concern" or a "Dear Poet."

On the plus side, it was a rapid rejection....13 days from submission to rejection. If nothing else it frees up the poems for me to send elsewhere if and when I get my courage back.

Where Where These When I Was On the Street?

AOL News - City Uses Enlarged Ambulance to Handle Obese Patients


"The company recently put into service a $250,000 bariatric ambulance, which looks like its other 80 ambulances, but is extra-wide and has a larger gurney, a winch and ramps capable of loading up to 1,600 pounds.
Clark County spokesman Bob Leinbach called the need for the larger ambulances obvious.
"If you don't think it's needed, all you have to do is look around," Leinbach said. "Americans are heavier."
The county's other ambulance provider is awaiting delivery of a bariatric ambulance and recently bought four electric gurneys capable of handling patients weighing up to 750 pounds, said Matthew Cox, a spokesman for MedicWest Ambulance.
"There's less stress on the paramedics' backs and it's a better stabilizer for the patient," Cox said."

Amen......There's a reason I had to have 6 1/2 hours of spinal surgery that left me with very little feeling in my left leg and foot......this would be a big part of that reason.

First Draft

Closed for repairs

Bush and Blair and Plots and Ploys (or Where Oh Where Will That Pilot Come From?)

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/27/international/europe/27memo.html?pagewanted=3

(excerpt from linked article)
Discussing Provocation
Without much elaboration, the memo also says the president raised three possible ways of provoking a confrontation. Since they were first reported last month, neither the White House nor the British government has discussed them.
"The U.S. was thinking of flying U2 reconnaissance aircraft with fighter cover over Iraq, painted in U.N. colours," the memo says, attributing the idea to Mr. Bush. "If Saddam fired on them, he would be in breach."
It also described the president as saying, "The U.S. might be able to bring out a defector who could give a public presentation about Saddam's W.M.D," referring to weapons of mass destruction.
A brief clause in the memo refers to a third possibility, mentioned by Mr. Bush, a proposal to assassinate Saddam Hussein. The memo does not indicate how Mr. Blair responded to the idea.

Ok....so these are my questions -

1. Isn't assassination illegal?
2. Aren't presidents liable for illegal acts under the law? (Never mind, I already know the answer to that one)
3. If we HAD painted a reconnaissance aircraft in U.N. colors, who were we going to get to FLY this aircraft while hoping it got shot out of the sky? Last I knew, the United States didn't HAVE suicide bombers on staff.
4. Where was this alleged "defector" supposed to come from? And how were "we" supposed to "find" him? And what W.M.D.'s was he supposed to report on - seeing as how there were none?
5. How many lies does a president have to tell before he gets called out on them?

I talked to my 82 year old aunt on the phone yesterday. She's a sweetheart who remembers more than I've ever known. Due to a physical disability she's bedridden and in a nursing home but her mind is as sharp as most 25 years olds - maybe sharper since she's got time and experience to back her up. In the course of the conversation she said to me, "You know, Laura, your Uncle John and I have been Republicans for all of our lives. I've never missed an election and I've always voted a straight ticket - but this Bush guy, he sucks, doesn't he?" and then she giggled and apologized for using the word "suck."

I figure if an 82 year old bedridden Republican woman from a small town in Indiana knows, we should all know.

So how come we don't?

Good New All Over the Place!!

This has been a good weekend for me. Not only did we go to my favorite casino in West Virginia and actually come home with cold green cash - I also received an acceptance from an anthology AND an encouraging request for submission from another anthology AND I've been "shortlisted" by an exclusive UK poetry magazine!! I won't mention names of the shortlist or the request because I'm a firm believer in the powers of "jinx" but I will tell you about the acceptance. Saturday morning I received a very nice, very funny letter from Dr. Neil Harding McAlister in which he accepted my poem "Vomiting Jonah" for inclusion in the second edition of "New Classic Poems" - contemporary verse which rhymes.

That's me!!! Not only am I alive, which makes me contemporary as hell, but I also rhyme most all the time! It's so very nice to have it recognized as occasionally important. There are so few poets who do so and many of those that do do it, do it badly and without regard for metrical accompaniment. As far as I'm concerned, there IS no good rhyme without meter holding it's hand. It's a lot like dancing without a partner.

Anyhow...the first edition of "New Classic Poems" is available as a PDF online here - http://www.durham.net/~neilmac/poemfiles.htm - if anyone is interested in checking it out.

They are also still accepting submissions until April 30, 2006. http://www.durham.net/~neilmac/submissions.htm. If anyone is into "formal" verse, this might be a good opportunity to show your stuff to an editor who will appreciate your formality.

I'm also very excited about the "shortlist" poem. It's one of those poems which is one of my personal favorites, which I've had around forever, which everyone who reads it seems to love, but one which no editor has ever showed any interest in publishing. The magazine which shortlisted it is a very reputable and fairly exclusive one - and it would be my first foray into having my poetry published "across the sea." That alone would be accomplishment enough to make me smile for months.

Keep your fingers crossed. I'll find out sometime in early summer.