Recent poems

The big event of the weekend was trying to explain to airport security in Spanglish what my one-hole hole puncher was for. Not everyone has a frequent need for confetti. It's an excellent tool that makes the trip back and forth across Europe with me these days.

Otherwise, I've had a flurry of visual found poems published over the past couple days. Mostly from the Misery series but also from other books, including "The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin," a collection of Eudora Welty stories, and Ali Smith's "The Accidental."

Six are in Tupelo Quarterly, three from Misery and three from Ben Franklin.

Two others, "Like the petals of one big scattered flower" and "Honeycomb," are in The Collagist.

I'll have some others out in the near future in Paperbag and Ghost Proposal.

The Itch

Two more of my Misery poems are up at The Collapsar, "The Itch" and "Past Life." 

"The Itch" reads:

If you turned the thing over 

to take a look at the works, 

you saw the itch let herself in 

dragging something heavy, 

a cross of soft skin.

"Past Life"

O maddening serene thing

in a previous life

such a rain began to fall

A couple more from this series are due out shortly, and at some point I'll make a linked index of them and post it here.

Spring poems

I have been remiss in writing this month, since it's National Poetry Month and I'm not with the poem-a-day program.

Oh well, spring has arrived anyway, bringing Misery poems. At this point, I've had more poems accepted in the first three months of  2017 than I had accepted in all of 2016.

Which is something to ponder.

A Bad Penny published five Misery poems here, including "Empty Talk" and "Night Flowers."

Pith also has two: "Moonscape" and "O MY lady."

Hopefully, I will depart April with at least one decent poem in my notebook or on my drawing board. 

Misery 33

One of the found poems I wrote using Stephen King's Misery, The Wreck, is up at Sixth Finch.

I'm still working on this project, but am thinking of moving on soon, maybe to another book. A motivating factor behind Misery was I had to do it - it was my assignment as part of a larger group. I worry that if I choose the book, I might give up too easily when I hit a rough spot.

So far I've done about 40 Misery poems, half of which are worth submitting. Five of those have already been accepted somewhere.
 

I'd like to use thread a bit more, though I've got collage material out the wazoo. 

And every day the paper boy brings more. 

Black chair

My husband and daughter went to Italy for a long weekend. My son has school, and I’ve taken the day off to lounge around and stare at the walls.

Ha, I wish. I have to paint a wall, buy the paint, finish a story for work (get back to me, people), and pick up a small chair that’s been reupholstered. Black. 

My first Misery poem is up at concis. It’s simply called “Misery 31.” 

I think a recorded reading of a poem can ruin it. The poem on the page is expansive and porous. A voice pierces it. It’s like illustrating a book. You drew a character in your mind, and suddenly a different image barges in.

This is not always so. Some poets are great readers. 

If the department of transportation decides phone calls are OK on board airplanes I will really start reading aloud aloft. I have done this on the subway when someone would not shut up. 

The day before a day off is always the better day. 

Going to put on my paint-splattered pants and bike to the DIY store. At some point. Today.

Dial M for Misery

I'm doing a poem-a-day project as part of "The Poeming," where each participant gets a Stephen King book in which to find a poem. My poems are all at Dial M for Misery, though I'm calling the tumblr blog "Remaking Misery," since I've hauled in some thread, confetti and coloured pencils.

I did read "Misery" as part of the deal, so I'm not at four King novels, the other three being "The Dead Zone," "The Shining," and "The Stand." I've listened to some stories on tape in the car, too. Not entirely my cup of tea, but enjoyable. To get into it I even watched the movie the other night.