24th First Date-aversary

(Don’t for one minute think I’ll ever forget)

golden-starburst-fireworks

Everything started then. Everything.
Just before the fireworks. She smiled.

Everyone thought it was a holiday. Everyone
smiled but no one smiled like I did.

Just before the fireworks I saw her. I knew.
Almost everything else had come to an end.

Then everything about her saved my smile.
It was The Fourth of July. Happy New Year.

The First Part

I met My Beloved Sandra 24 years ago today. It’s our Meetaversary. I’d come up to Vermont to visit my family & celebrate The Fourth. Our first date was the fireworks show at the Barton Fairgrounds. I’m pretty sure I fell in love on the spot. Unfortunately, we both had jobs & I had to leave for Connecticut early the next morning. Even though she couldn’t hang around long enough to see the bus pull away, she was kind enough to give me a lift to the Greyhound so that I could get home & start the long-distance part of our budding romance.

I wrote this (ancient) poem on the way back to New Haven and yes, Walkman.

Greyhound_MCI_DL3-Interiorb

One Minute Is A Moment On Her Lips And The Next Minute Surrenders The Ticket

Oh and it’s so sudden that short walk,
that busy first moment on board:
look down the aisle for a place to sit

stash the bag in the overhead
dig out the notebook and the Life Savers
locate the Walkman
and a window seat.
Look out
and the small blue car that drove you to that parting
………………….is gone Oh
…………….and it’s so suddenly
…………………..overcast

—————[|||]—————

Best quarter-century of my life. Thank you, Dr. Stanley.

My One Phone Call…Again

phone

Yeah, yeah; I know it’s called Your One Phone Call, but everyone knows it’s a myth that lightning never strikes in the same place twice.  In my (very fortunate) case, they’ve decided to publish three (3!) of my poems, and today they’ve published the second of the trio, “Appraisal”.

They published “Empties” on 6/18, “Appraisal” today, and “Breathless” is scheduled for 7/16. You know I’ll be back to steer you back there again then, right?

Site Master Dai Shotter puts up something phenomenal every day.  You should definitely check out Your One Phone Call anytime.

Meanwhile, my meager contributions are here:

AppraisalandEmpties

Je Suis Icarus

greek

Imagine: Actual Ink on Actual Paper

Lost Tower Publications, compiler / publisher of the soon-to-be-released anthology, Greek Fire, advises me that final touches are complete and the collection should be off to the printers soon.  Release date TBA…but SOON.

I’m very happy and honored to be included.  My poem Icarus, These Days will no doubt be in good company, if previous Lost Tower anthologies are any indication.  

The poem’s not really about the ancient birdman, but uses the tale’s basic imagery to (I hope) clearly draw some parallels to a (ie my) more modern existence.

Thursday Thirteen

13 Parts

1) The part where the whole thing is all there is
2) The part where it floats away
3) The part where they argue antler velvet versus horn marrow
4) The part where he can’t tell the difference anymore
5) The part about how the father knows best at 2:25 AM
6) The part where the choice between razors and needles becomes crucial
7) And tweezers
8) The part where he breathes and sleeps or sleeps without breathing or breathes without sleeping or wakes up and
9) The part where she isn’t asleep either
10) The part where each is worried about the other
11) The part about the unintended and noisy ice
12) The part about Northern Lights in southern skies
13) The part where he carries words around in a box in a bag, later at night than he should have to, for no good reason

——[|]——

You KNOW there’s lots more (good) parts at The New Thursday 13

—————[|||]—————

Six Word Saturday

brick

All-Day Drive? Not So Bad!

It should be pretty obvious by now to most folks that I’m a stay-at-home sort of guy.  My Beloved Sandra generally sees to it that I get out and about every once in a while, like it or not.  This year she’s dragging me treating me to a stay on The Outer Banks in North Carolina.

We’re not quite there yet, but after almost 13 hours on the road we stopped for the night and the hotel clerk’s drawled “Well, bless your heart” reminded me I’m no longer in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont.

It’s not quite the ‘Deep South’, but for this Connecticut (born) Yankee it’s Oz at 90 degrees.

I guess I’ll survive.

Finally! The Phone Rings!

phone After an extended dry spell, my poem, Empties, is up today at Your One Phone Call.  It’s the first of 3 poems accepted there, with two others (Appraisal and Breathless), scheduled for publication in July. 

Rest assured, I’ll come back to tug on your sleeve about them later; but for now you can help me celebrate:

Read Empties