Modus Operandi: Author’s Mission Statement, and about us:
After closing his previous blog on WordPress, Fallen Leaves 2, and a misstep with another following it, featherdaily, the author looks to write about poetry, and discover what other writers expect to see, when they read poetry manuscripts, to expand his readership beyond the provinces of his Indiana small town, to honor diversity, and a way to connect with other writers, safely, as the ongoing pandemic progresses. While his Degenerative Disk Disease develops, and potentially other underlying undiagnosed roots of muscle tension and falling are yet to be determined, he takes personal time to freelance and consult publishing houses, as well as write reviews of new books in advanced copies he generously receives and reads. He continues to learn about non-traditional paths to income. The author’s main goal is to edit poems, and create a manuscript, its content of which explores the polemics, current issues, and events, of the Mid-West, asking the question, rhetorically, “Where is kindness,” examining where the bridges between separate lenses, or ways to interpret the landscape and identities of a pluralist society are, simultaneously tackling the author’s own issues of worldview, bias, in a natural, peaceful, approach to better understanding his current Southern topos, where he resides, that uniquely puts him in an undiscovered atmosphere, different than where he grew up, up North, between home and stepping stones, resolving the trauma and alienation he has experienced since childhood, as well as exploring the tastes and necessities of his omnisexuality, sincerely, honestly, with an eye towards the Eastern rising sun.
My Latest Posts
- draft 16, Sitting in my Chair at the Barker-Cornelius Loft in Richmond, Indiana, after my parents’ Sunday dinner, poem #69, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…7 October 2019 At my writing desk I sit, incontinent, and penniless, after the failure of following in my father’s legacy —a legacy: like a thief, who gave me a gimmick, a gimmick, which gave my spine to the thief, a thief who’s infamously named, “Enterprise”. I remember the gnawed garages, and weathered workshops, ofContinue reading “draft 16, Sitting in my Chair at the Barker-Cornelius Loft in Richmond, Indiana, after my parents’ Sunday dinner, poem #69, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…”
- Ease (Revise to Elegy for Mr. Bones) , poem #50, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…Round about a rushing river’s banks, diverse junipers and willows rest. A bridge cradles Henry, Pussycat,above the tree tops close as couples appear to him. Constantly culling shrouded burdens, of a bitch of a mom, to the teeth,his placid demeanor abandons undesired seeds of adaptation, through whiskey worship,freed from the flesh of conformation: cantaloupe orContinue reading “Ease (Revise to Elegy for Mr. Bones) , poem #50, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…”
- “Labor”, poem #68, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress …“Race around the proverbial track, task to task,” exhaults your executives, eager for exceptional, exemplary effort, that employees exude without education. Escape, escape, escape, extortion, the experience equates with evaporating spirits of separate, imagined individuals, terrors of thought to them. Your wife went into the sublime of school, your sacrifice succeeded. All your relatives react:Continue reading ““Labor”, poem #68, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress …”
- “FETCH”, poem #67, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…Sincerely, respectfully, yours — how many moments, (moments, so massless, miniscule) remain for us, nouns? 4 am; see him, the reaper who glides over 13th; yet whom, dim pavement? W.B. Yeats noted little Scottish lore, and yet, I flip his pages; remember, how thin the veil is in November, between us and fey? From RaymondContinue reading ““FETCH”, poem #67, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…”
- “I seek solace in Euterpe’s Den”, poem #66, song #5, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…If Yahweh came up lost from our searches in the sky, then what’s good in living remains in the grass. If the devil came up on the ends of uranium drills, then I’d share the good book with my bonny lass, but alas. On a trigger a soldier puts a trembling finger, at the endContinue reading ““I seek solace in Euterpe’s Den”, poem #66, song #5, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…”
- “Genethliacon for Billy Lee”, poem #65, from Manuscript-In- Progress…Fish Fry, 17 October 2021 Days dawn by over-easy-eggs topped with pureed of tomatoes. Recline two lenses, luminated, and to watch the Westerns, nostalgiac reverence of calls to check-in with Grandma Clark. Meatloaf slowly merinades in the oven, ’til supper is savory and sweet. We drive, delight in Wick’s warm sugar cream with coffee, andContinue reading ““Genethliacon for Billy Lee”, poem #65, from Manuscript-In- Progress…”
- “Extreme Climate Change”, poem #64, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…All these faces at the border wall, letters left out of our lifeless law. Fish float on their last gasps from their gills gone into the surface of the seas.
- “Self-Sumaritan”, poem #63, from Manuscript-In-Progress…Surprise sweats surly silences, engulfted in enduring edicts of executives, rins over railing into a river; after your anguishes affirmations answer. Leap into the lean-to, and love the loon, oblige the opennness, observe all ode the onerous opel. Carefully, the clock will cauterize the cuts.
- “So Long, Mr. Smith”, poem #62, song #4, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…for William “Christopher” Smith, 3 November 2020 Mud brown crystal rectangle, dim slanted beam of dawn falling on growing weeds. Pick up Daphne and play or do what the gods say, “Listen,” all day. (Can you see) from outerspace, watching down (can you tell me) is this the right chord sound? So long, Mr. Smith.Continue reading ““So Long, Mr. Smith”, poem #62, song #4, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…”
- America (I hum), poem #61, song #3, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…Would like to mention my collaborator, sometime bassist, Micah Williamson, who’s collaborated with me, for several years, who helped me discover a mode for my melodies with our jams. The song was written about immigration: asking the question, implicitly, who can really claim “America” as their own, and looks at immigration waves to the NewContinue reading “America (I hum), poem #61, song #3, fr. Manuscript-In-Progress…”