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My Poetry and Commentary on Life

  • This Writer’s Beginnings: EarlyYears
  • Bread Loaf Influence
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  • you fucked up

    by

    Arcana, fate, irony, life, poetry, resolve, tarot
    your red regret wraps you
    in a laughable inconsequence
    the earth absorbs the wine
    as if you were never there
    so you fucked up so what
    look to the wood near you
    along this path a river runs
    its rambling way to the sea
    the past is never more than past
    take stock of the time at hand
    then pack up your remains and go
    you are your only bridge home

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Vcups, February 8, 2014)

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  • foundations

    by

    Arcana, life, love, poetry, tarot
    life radiates
    the embrace
    of our dance
    uniting the sky
    like a rainbow
    between what
    we were
    and our
    happiness

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Xcups, February 7, 2014)

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  • Tolerance Resists Control

    by

    acceptance, definition, identity formation, irony, poetry, response

    what you
    choose
    to do
    for you
    is perfect
    for you
    to do
    until you
    tell me
    to do
    it too
    whether
    a straight
    behest
    or mocking
    satire
    you need
    not explain
    yourself
    to me
    by telling
    me
    to be
    like you

    (February 7, 2014)

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  • Trinity

    by

    Arcana, communication, community, conversation, meaning, memory, poetry, social construction, tarot
    three paths join in a wood
    wise able and strong
    each heads their own way
    each committed to their time
    but within this moment
    their three journeys stayed
    by whispered conversations
    over hand shakes and nods
    They speak of past and future
    until presently engaged again
    each departs subtly  changed
    by the constant push and pull
    of the one upon the others
    becoming and being themselves
    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” IIIpentacles, February 7, 2014)

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  • Looking for a Catalyst

    by

    Arcana, critical theory, desire, dissatisfaction, identity formation, life, meaning, paradigm shifts, poetry, resolve, tarot

    I should be content with
                bourgeois comfort
                tend to my roses
                swill wine with friends
    I should be pleased
                if not smug
                with  the knick-knacks
                and dust I’ve acquired
    I should wallow
                in self-assured pity
                that I deserve
                everything about me
    But I can’t so I must
                change my life

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Queenpentacles, February 6, 2014)

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  • Demands of the Time

    by

    i ching, life, meaning, poetry, process, ritual, thinking, writing

    February 2, 1995
    The pen’s nib scratches
    a black scar across paper.
    A larger world demands attention,
    but for now- – I write this poem.
    Like a bird repairing her nest,

    I must think about today.

    (from “My Book of Changes,” 1994-1995)

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  • Continuity

    by

    Arcana, borders, liminal, middle-age, poetry, tarot, time
    He sits near a pond.
    The pond is still
    in the calm
    summer night.
    His hand floats
    above the water,
    perpetually
    on the verge
    of the undisturbed
    moon-lit sheen.
    He is content.
    He is benefice.
    He is water.

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Kingpentacles, February 4, 2014)

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  • Birth

    by

    Arcana, creativity, hope, life, mythic, paradigm shifts, poetry, process
    So it’s over;
    So it begins:
    The present—
    always, again
    within;
    without sin.

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Xswords, February 4, 2014)

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  • messenger

    by

    Arcana, erato, hope, love, poetry, tarot
    see
    she said
    even here
    within this waste
    it can grow—
    hope is patient
    patience is not
    naïve

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Pagewands, February 4, 2014)

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  • Look Back

    by

    family, i ching, meaning, memory, poetry
    December 30, 1995
    I gather my poems together.
    None of which mean much
    on their own, like a snapshot
    of other families.  Combined,
    they cohere like atoms swarming

    around a nucleus called me.

    (from “My Book of Changes” 1994-1995)

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  • not so foolish

    by

    Arcana, creativity, liminal, obsessions, poetry, tarot, trust
    “The sequence returns; one thing leads to another—the usual order.”

                                        –Virginia Woolf
    all’s so elementally repetitious
    through infinite waves’ pulse
    one hand lets fall
    like oxygen molecules
    into the other
    to bobble troubles
    all the while
    with all the wiles
    dancing an idiosyncratic
    dance along the shore

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” IIPentacles, February 2, 2014)

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  • Small Things

    by

    acceptance, audacity, i ching, poetry, time

    January 21, 1995
    A sparrow twitters on
    a bare birch branch.
    I laugh in wonder- –
    simplicity overwhelms me.
    I spend the day watching clouds;

    the mountain can wait for tomorrow.

    (from “My Book of Changes,” 1994-1995)

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  • Caritas

    by

    Arcana, borders, community, education, liminal, poetry, process, relationships, space, teaching, thinking
    the word for teaching is learning
                            –James Britton
    the scales’ swing’s never justified
    I learn from my students more
    than I could ever teach
    I dole out my talents
    with parsimonious guilt
    but balance manifests within
    the flow of the day to day exchanges
    one mind to one mind into another
    I offer what I have
    time to read and think
    time to write and reflect
    the arcana of teaching begs
    to disappear within the learning
    to find what must be taught

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” VIpentacles, January 31, 2014)

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  • A Year of Postings

    by

    audacity, community, essay, life, literacy, literature, obsessions, poetry, process, ways of knowing, writing
    On February 1, 2013 I decided I would try to post something on this blog everyday. I thought I would fail, because finding time to write has always been problematic.  I figured I could supplement new poems and musings with older poems, after all I have been consciously writing poetry since I was 15. Luckily I do not have much writing still extant prior to the age of 22.
                With this post I am making my goal a reality. I have posted 492 times since this time last year. Not only did I post at least once every day since last year, I sometimes managed to post multiple times in one day. The self-imposed quota has made me do what pretty much all advice to writers from writers boils down to: write every day. Many days I posted something from one of my longer projects from the past: “My Book of Changes”, “If This is A Comedy, Why Ain’t I Laughing”, “Primogenitive Folly,” “115 Missing Days, or “Sonnet, a Renga.” But the majority of the time what I posted were new poems. Even when I posted one of my older works, I still wrote everyday.
                I make no claims to the quality of my poems. But as Charles Bernstein wrote, if you call something a poem, then it is a poem. It might be a bad poem, but it is still a poem. I think I am writing some of the best poetry I have ever written. Yes, that is an arrogant statement, and easily mocked. I don’t have a problem with that; I write poetry.  I like what I write. I want others to read it. Like it, don’t like it; get it, don’t get it: It doesn’t change what I write or think about. I put thought and conscious effort into each poem. I try to write with skill and craft in each line I lay onto the page. I enjoy the hurdles of self-imposed structures, coupled with random chance and whim.
                Ultimately, writing everyday has given me a space to think about the world and my place within the life I have managed to carve out. It has made me more attentive to my thoughts and normally roiling emotions. If nothing else, this has been a positive influence, forcing me to examine the vicissitudes of my condition with a more contemplative eye.
                I will continue to post as I write. I am currently working on a project with my sister Donna Neal, the visual artist, based upon the tarot pack. So, the poems should still come on a fairly regular basis for a while. I am not going to worry too much if I miss a day or two along the way however.  I hope some of you have enjoyed the flood over the last year, and will continue to read what I write.

    (January 31, 2014)

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  • fighting the good fight

    by

    Arcana, critical theory, doubt, fear, life, mythic, obsessions, poetry, sonnets, tarot
    fear screeches fangs bare
    then flees to let her echoes
    like briar along a fence
    bend their discontents
    he stands amid barren fields
    sword drawn like Occam’s razor
    feeling foolish without reason
    for an argument to make
    outside his disquietude
    with raging all alone
    against the icy winds
    howling in his heart
    like hungry jackals
    against the dark

    (from a work in progress: “Arcana,” Knightswords, January 30, 2014)

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