She likes to travel, leaves him alone for days at home;
and he, reclusive, easily a hermit, gladly stays at home.
She likes to wake to the sound of surf and a foggy sea,
imagines him waking up in the mountain greys at home.
Fog is fog, he tells her on the phone; it all burns off—
but when she leaves he finds himself in a haze at home.
He makes the bed and cooks the meals. He’s got his flutes
and drums and all the other things he plays at home.
Still, he hopes he remains Her Beloved Poet, immersed
in words and searching for the perfect phrase. At home.
IGWRT – Tuesday Platform
Is there such a thing as laziness? I know there must be, but I prefer to think of it in slightly more positive terms.
I just got word that my poem “Conservation Of Energy“ has been accepted for Sloth, the upcoming 4th Volume of the 7 Deadly Sins Anthology being published by Pure Slush Books.
This would make me 4:4 in the series, which also makes me very happy and extremely proud. I’m already busy working on a rough draft for Wrath (the hardest for me so far, for which the Submissions Call has just been issued) and am attempting to shape my mind around Envy and Pride.
I’ll let you know when the issue’s published (paper and e-pub!)
Lust: Do It Yourself
Gluttony: Fat Ronald Cheats
Greed: Not Too Much To Ask
He’d settle for a polite smile
or even just a blank stare
but all he ever gets is a smirk
and an obscene gesture
once his back’s turned.
RDP Friday – Smirk
It’s a waiting game. He’s played it for years. He thinks he should, by now, have more to show for all his patience; should have better things to do with his mornings than just sitting up straight, pen in hand, waiting. He’s wasted all that ink, spent all that time turning all those pages, and drunk all of that uninspired and uninspirational coffee—all for nothing, or next to nothing.
“All there is, is nothing,” he tells himself over and over, doing his best to recall The Master’s most frequent message. And even though he’s sitting alone, watching the first drops of Autumn’s first rain fall, he can clearly hear his old friend Jack’s voice reminding him: “There’s no rain / there’s no me / I’m telling ya, man…”
After a while, he decides he’s waited long enough. He puts down his pen and disappears.
It’s right there, waiting.
He clicks and clicks the keyboard.
It’s no use; no use.
RDP Thursday – Slippery
I am certainly disappointed and significantly frustrated to let you know:
Last night’s e-mail from my editor at Finishing Line Press advises me (in part) that “…it will take a few [more] weeks before the books begin printing/shipping…”
Since you’ve already laid out your hard-earned bucks for this book, I’d like to give you more details about this delay but, unfortunately, my re-reading of the Confidentiality Clause in the Publishing Contract probably precludes me from doing so. Sorry.
I WILL keep you posted! I’ve asked them to expedite the process wherever possible. I’m fairly confident that the delay will be minimal, and your book will ship in early October.
I believe I’ll have more info for you as the new date approaches.
Thanks in advance for your patience.
In case you haven’t already laid out your hard-earned bucks for this marvelous chapbook, you may do so here:
Fallen Away – Ron. Lavalette