A new month, new energy, and plenty of new creations under my belt…
Come on, 2015, there’s still a little time left. Let’s finish it with a bang!
(And some poetry, of course…)
Outside, the snow is falling
silence stretches in the weight behind
the distance flakes have traveled
what they have seen
what they have known
lonely mementos of their fading.
It’s a subtle shake
in the downfall of the snowflake,
a surging stride
that rides the skies
unto the dearth and death
of the unity of breath:
breathe in, breathe out
before the world can even shout
a division of decision
whereby we shake out in derision
thoughts and words unbidden
breaking snowflakes on the midden.
For those who met my announcement a few weeks back with scorn, derision, or at least a quirked eyebrow or two, let it be known that the issues of technological explosiveness have since been corrected. After a few days of hyperventilating and making crude gesticulations at the fickle computer gods (You, Microsoft, are nothing if not Fickle; don’t ever tell me otherwise), the problem was identified, the cause rooted out, and my files secured. Also, a neat little back-up program was to (hopefully) prevent that terror from happening again, but it is what it is.
The writings have been saved. As has i-Tunes, though I suspect that interests you less. A fellow needs some Mumford and Sons for the writing process, though, among other things…
The Problem:
So what now? Well, more writing, certainly. Despite my moans and groans in our previous meet and greet, the scribbling kept up strong during the last few weeks. Note pads and journals–they are a writer’s friend. Several new short stories (mostly comical–an odd binge for me–some dark; some sci-fi, some fantasy) have arrived, along with ideas for a stack more. Where they came from, who knows, but when the muse dances a jig on my back I certainly don’t complain. Likewise, I’ve dispatched another batch of those scribbles to some SpecFic mags, whilst my editor drums his way through to the final notes on At Faith’s End.
Also amongst the good news:
Suffice to say, they’re needed boosts. While the computer thing was a blow this month, there’s other things lurking behind the scenes as well. General joblessness is enough to stand anyone’s hairs on end after a while, but when you toss in medical things (yes, some are related to the recent poem), a person starts to feel like their day is nails on the chalkboard. Another doctor’s appointment in a few hours that will (hopefully) lead to corrections of at least one of this brand’s downswings, though.
I realize there’s little physical substance going along with this article, but it’s an update piece–mostly wanted you all to know I hadn’t quite dropped off the face of the earth. With luck, I shall be doing some lurking about in days to come, and will have some more substantial posts to come. Meanwhile, hope everyone’s spring is gearing up (Wednesday, fools) for a better opening then it is here. In Michigan, they’re predicting the next four days shall be given over to the snow.
Point of reference: at this time of the year last year it was 80 degrees. Winter is determined to stalk me.
White Walkers optional. (24 Days of Christmas – The King in the North http://awhoreslies.tumblr.com/tagged/%2Achristmas)
Winter. Because sometimes fact and fiction share a few details, and freeze us out between them. Thankfully, I suppose, scenes in my next book at least allow me to begin prodding beyond the frost. And when I wake up to bright beautiful sunlight, and see its gauges then sprout such blasphemies to me as “0”, I become all the more determined to scribble-scribble-scribble my way through it in a hurry. So, I suppose it serves a productive purpose.
Stay warm today, everyone. It’s frigid.
A thousand lights swarm
with the break of grey *
like fireflies descent upon the warm
sanctuary of the hidden day.
No sight,
No light.
They will sway before they bend
a multitude consumed
before they mend
tragedies in twilight bloomed.
* Inspired by the oh so grey, and oh so dark, and oh so slushy morning today in Colorado. Hurrah for people forgetting how to drive in the two weeks since they last saw snow… Thankfully this, like all things, can get the poetic gears turning in this silly little head of mine, and expand beyond mere road-based frustrations. I would have gotten a picture to add…but I was a little busy trying not to die. Seemed important.
She woke before me,
straining her brush through aurora strands,
smiling at the pale gown
reflected in the blue-green mirror.
When she stretches,
pink melon breasts exposed at the nipple
collect prism dew, drowning
in the throb of rehydrated crystal needles.
The vapors of her perfume are scentless,
senselessly caressing the rivers of her eyes
like butterfly winds—fluttering out
from east to west; an oriental song.
But the lantern burns—
by night she is radiantly departed:
she lays her head in my lap
and the mascara runs in shadows down my leg.
*Out of season by the title, I know, but I hope you’ve all enjoyed the cool touch of this one all the same…my contribution to what may well be the last, or one of the last One Shot Wednesdays at One Stop Poetry. It has been an honor and a pleasure, everyone. I look forward to visiting you all outside of the linkies though, and to continue basking in your poetry as time rolls on.
Lying in disguise
the wolf called winter lingered
with the summer reeds.
Lovers dangle barefoot
brevity against the water’s kiss,
the ripples like wishes
in bottles, SOS and MIA
where snow dawns in itinerant icebergs
lain bare and broken on the shore.
His hands in her hair,
the wind knows not the blooming
of petals-in-flight
–it is a patient spring.
It’s a special One Shot, my friends and fellow poets.
Yesterday, One Stop Poetry won the Shorty Awards prize – Twitter’s equivalent of the Oscars – for art. It is an honor all of you helped us achieve, and one that legitimizes all we have done, and all we hope to do in the future. Be sure to send your warm regards and your congratulations to my fellow One Stop team members: Adam Dustus, Leslie Moon, Brian Miller, Pete Marshall, Claudia Schönfeld, Gay Cannon and Jessica Kristie, for all they have done. They’ll appreciate it, I assure you!
Art is important to all of us, and we hope to aid our fellow artists in the pursuit of their love. This is just another stepping stone in the realization of that dream. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for One Stop!
Last week, if you weren’t aware, we here in Michigan experience a little phenomenon we like to call “Fake Spring.” It wouldn’t say it’s commonplace, but it happens often enough that while we are still terribly confused by its appearance, I doubt there’s anyone out there really protesting at this point.
So what is fake spring you might ask? Fake spring is when you have fine, snow-laden winter going on around you, complete with bitter wind chills, hordes of Ugg boots, and North Face jackets, when all of a sudden Michigan decides that all this snow’s gotten a little boring, and all of a sudden the sun break through the clouds, the birds circle and chirp, and all that snow recedes into wet, gloppy pools of thick brown mud.
Suddenly, there is grass again. Bikes make a tremendous resurgence. Coats depart and the crazies (we call them residents) start walking around in short-shorts and flip-flops again. Good times, really.
Of course that strange little bizarro world you’ve entered comes to an end. It ended this Sunday, in fact, when after all that snow had melted, Michigan let loose a maddened giggle, and dumped us with another 7 inches of the white stuff. Yes, it is a strange place I live in. One with a sick sense of humor I might add.
But life goes on, snow or no, and those same crazies in their short-shorts and flip flops return to ice-driving, barreling down the ice-laden stretches without concern to speed or silly little things like…reason, AKA traction. Then, we all cry a little inside.
Hope you’ve enjoyed a few of the pics I took while out and about enjoying that Fake Spring. All are from the Lansing River Trail, a local favorite of mine. These pictures were taken on the first day of Fake Spring, before all the snow had its chance to melt – but as you can see, the river was a lot less icy than it was a couple weeks ago.
Fifty degree weather in the midst of February – to some, apparently, a fact that means “Let’s go kayaking!”
And then, of course, there’s this…
Tasteful advertising at its best!
So I learned something valuable yesterday: WordPress does not like Soundslides – no, no it does not.
Attempting to upload the photo essay I made of the Snowpocalypse met with less than desirable success, but I shall see if I can’t work my way around it in the days to come. Where there’s a problem, there’s generally a solution – especially with technology. Might just take a bit of finaygling…
That said, today in honor of that and other frustrations, I give unto you a quick two-liner for all those struggling through the mundane toils of the world. Let’s call it…Epitaph:
Just the tip, said I,
and the world shafted me by and by.
Meanwhile, in the wake of the great snow showers, my friends have taken liberties with the snowy plains of my house and seem to have turned them into a mural. Also started into an underground cave network. Yes, pictures shall follow. Soon, if not today. Perhaps Monday, after tomorrow’s quotes and One Shoot Sunday fun…
Everyone ready for the next photo prompt? We’re engaging a wonderful nature photographer this week named Sean McCormick. I think you’ll enjoy his work very much. Long interview too. We’re thinking of making it a two-parter…extending the One Stop love out for all you happy readers out there. Be sure to check it out.
And to my American friends out there…so, about that Superbowl. All ready for the game?
The Waking Den 