Poetry and About Poetry

My thanks to all who wrote reviews of “ Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolves ” on Amazon. I excerpt some comments that are deeply gratifying for a poet to read: “the powerful closing poem I am of Appalachians” –  Patrick Bradley “ Tactile experiences join ruminations: You feel the environment in these poems, or see rivers, creatures and sky with new eyes….  There is wonderful sense of place (or places) in these poems and language.” –  Douglas Glenn Clark   “ Like a multi-textured cloth that you need to touch to understand, appreciate and enjoy. His stories remind me of my childhood, and for that I am greatful for his ability to bring his words to life.” – John Brining “ I could picture myself there as I read it.” – Janet Lyons “ These poems awaken the senses and are wonderful to read aloud.” – Alice Crane “ This honest and powerful book provides a compelling window into the development of the heart and mind of a man…” Mike Zitz “ The poems in this volume cover a variety of topics, but al

My thanks to all who wrote reviews of " Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolves " on Amazon. I excerpt some comments that are deeply gratifying for a poet to read: "the powerful closing poem I am of Appalachians" -  Patrick Bradley " Tactile experiences join ruminations: You feel the environment in these poems, or see rivers, creatures and sky with new eyes....  There is wonderful sense of place (or places) in these poems and language." -  Douglas Glenn Clark   " Like a multi-textured cloth that you need to touch to understand, appreciate and enjoy. His stories remind me of my childhood, and for that I am greatful for his ability to bring his words to life." - John Brining " I could picture myself there as I read it." - Janet Lyons " These poems awaken the senses and are wonderful to read aloud." - Alice Crane " This honest and powerful book provides a compelling window into the development of the heart and mind

Into Daylight: Poems by Jeffrey Harrison My rating: 4 of 5 stars What a pleasure to read Jeffrey Harrison’s plain but pur language. He strikes the right notes without pretension, but certainly with craft. There are tones of regret, mourning, whimsy, celebration, lust, humor, nostalgia, hope. Two examples of many possible: “…she’s collecting leaves: the yellow mittens of the sassafras, the burgundy oaks, the lemony ovals of the beeches baking to brown, and the maples’ red flamelets scattered on the path, their backs a pale violet.” (from “Walking with Eliza”) If a poet’s job is to pay attention, really pay attention, and then find the right words, this shows Harrison doing that job well. Here he recalls in his son’s drinking directly from a faucet the image of his brother who had committed suicide 10 years before: “…and I like the way my son becomes a little more my brother for a moment through this small habit born of a simple need…” I must admit a guilty pleasure in reading from “On

Into Daylight: Poems by Jeffrey Harrison My rating: 4 of 5 stars What a pleasure to read Jeffrey Harrison's plain but pur language. He strikes the right notes without pretension, but certainly with craft. There are tones of regret, mourning, whimsy, celebration, lust, humor, nostalgia, hope. Two examples of many possible: "...she's collecting leaves: the yellow mittens of the sassafras, the burgundy oaks, the lemony ovals of the beeches baking to brown, and the maples' red flamelets scattered on the path, their backs a pale violet." (from "Walking with Eliza") If a poet's job is to pay attention, really pay attention, and then find the right words, this shows Harrison doing that job well. Here he recalls in his son's drinking directly from a faucet the image of his brother who had committed suicide 10 years before: "...and I like the way my son becomes a little more my brother for a moment through this small habit born of a simple need...

Thank you  Rotary Club of Rappahannock-Fredericksburg for allowing me to visit the day before Thanksgiving and talk about my book, “ Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolves .” Thank you for your ongoing support for Germanna Community College and to those members who purchased copies. I will now be able to write a larger check to our Educational Foundation in December.

Thank you  Rotary Club of Rappahannock-Fredericksburg for allowing me to visit the day before Thanksgiving and talk about my book, " Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolves ." Thank you for your ongoing support for Germanna Community College and to those members who purchased copies. I will now be able to write a larger check to our Educational Foundation in December.

Sea Garden by H.D. My rating: 3 of 5 stars In this early and slim volume, you can see what will come in HD’s later imagist writing. Here too often the diction of “high poetry” of the 19th Century appears. And too many poems are apostrophes to flowers and objects. But the irregular verse is free, the imagery true, and the language moving towards the modern. View all my reviews

Sea Garden by H.D. My rating: 3 of 5 stars In this early and slim volume, you can see what will come in HD's later imagist writing. Here too often the diction of "high poetry" of the 19th Century appears. And too many poems are apostrophes to flowers and objects. But the irregular verse is free, the imagery true, and the language moving towards the modern. View all my reviews

Incarnadine: Poems by Mary Szybist My rating: 4 of 5 stars Mary Szybist’s second collection reaches for heaven through an imagining of the experience of Mary at Annunciation, and sometimes touches it with such lovely and simple language as: “Time to enter yourself. Time to make your own sorrow. Time to unbrighten and discard even your slenderness.” “…having bathed carefully in the syllables of your name,” “Now what seas, what meanings can I place in you?” There are times when the simplicity becomes merely prosaic and the collection is a bit uneven. Still and all, a worthy effort. View all my reviews

Incarnadine: Poems by Mary Szybist My rating: 4 of 5 stars Mary Szybist's second collection reaches for heaven through an imagining of the experience of Mary at Annunciation, and sometimes touches it with such lovely and simple language as: "Time to enter yourself. Time to make your own sorrow. Time to unbrighten and discard even your slenderness." "...having bathed carefully in the syllables of your name," "Now what seas, what meanings can I place in you?" There are times when the simplicity becomes merely prosaic and the collection is a bit uneven. Still and all, a worthy effort. View all my reviews

Saint Friend by Carl Adamshick My rating: 5 of 5 stars This small collection is one of the finest I have read from a contemporary poet. Carl Adamshick writes with simple but supple grace and gives voices to others including Amelia Earhart. The poem “Layover” disguises craft under an illusion of stream of consciousness. But if you reread, it is hard to imagine a different order to the words. Poems abound in wonderful lines, a few of which I quote a here: “…the moon laying its light on men abandoned to their immediate selves” *** “It is the solace of a shadow lost on black water.” *** “Growing up I talked to the road near my house when it was barren and straight miles were buried under an eternity of moonlight.” *** “It’s what we don’t have words for that grows lonely within us.” We are all less lonely because Adamshick has given us some of the words with simple and profound eloquence. View all my reviews

Saint Friend by Carl Adamshick My rating: 5 of 5 stars This small collection is one of the finest I have read from a contemporary poet. Carl Adamshick writes with simple but supple grace and gives voices to others including Amelia Earhart. The poem "Layover" disguises craft under an illusion of stream of consciousness. But if you reread, it is hard to imagine a different order to the words. Poems abound in wonderful lines, a few of which I quote a here: "...the moon laying its light on men abandoned to their immediate selves" *** "It is the solace of a shadow lost on black water." *** "Growing up I talked to the road near my house when it was barren and straight miles were buried under an eternity of moonlight." *** "It's what we don't have words for that grows lonely within us." We are all less lonely because Adamshick has given us some of the words with simple and profound eloquence. View all my reviews

The opening poem in my collection “ Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolves ,” has its roots with William Wordsworth Spots in Time section of the Prelude: From The Prelude Book Twelfth William Wordsworth There are in our existence spots of time, That with distinct pre-eminence retain A renovating virtue, whence–depressed                             By false opinion and contentious thought, Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight, In trivial occupations, and the round Of ordinary intercourse–our minds Are nourished and invisibly repaired; A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced, That penetrates, enables us to mount, When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen. This efficacious spirit chiefly lurks Among those passages of life that give                              Profoundest knowledge to what point, and how, The mind is lord and master–outward sense The obedient servant of her will. Such moments Are scattered everywhere, taking their date From our first childhood. I remember well, T

The opening poem in my collection " Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolves ," has its roots with William Wordsworth Spots in Time section of the Prelude: From The Prelude Book Twelfth William Wordsworth There are in our existence spots of time, That with distinct pre-eminence retain A renovating virtue, whence--depressed                             By false opinion and contentious thought, Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight, In trivial occupations, and the round Of ordinary intercourse--our minds Are nourished and invisibly repaired; A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced, That penetrates, enables us to mount, When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen. This efficacious spirit chiefly lurks Among those passages of life that give                              Profoundest knowledge to what point, and how, The mind is lord and master--outward sense The obedient servant of her will. Such moments Are scattered everywhere

Please join me for a reading from my books Saturday November 15, 2014 from 2 to 4 pm. I will also be available to sign copies for those who have purchased them. Thank you, Griffin! Location: The Griffin The Griffin Bookshop and Coffee Bar 723 Caroline St Fredericksburg, Virginia 22401 http://www.griffinbookshop.com / https://www.facebook.com/GriffinBookshop/info I will read from Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolve s & Dark land, White Light . Here is a poem from Memories: Dust of the Mundane Clouds dressed and undressed the sky all day, shadows straying across fields and dirt roads. I walked against the traffic of the clouds, their streaming east down the dry highway, echoed by shadows and by dust-arousing cars. I walked their windblown dust. Soon my feet itched where they met the shoes because, sockless, I had come to wear brown leggings of sweat-streaked dust. As the clouds have abandoned all hope of making their endless goal before the night dissolves them into white stars, so I h

Please join me for a reading from my books Saturday November 15, 2014 from 2 to 4 pm. I will also be available to sign copies for those who have purchased them. Thank you, Griffin! Location: The Griffin The Griffin Bookshop and Coffee Bar 723 Caroline St Fredericksburg, Virginia 22401 http://www.griffinbookshop.com / https://www.facebook.com/GriffinBookshop/info I will read from Memories in Clay, Dreams of Wolve s & Dark land, White Light . Here is a poem from Memories: Dust of the Mundane Clouds dressed and undressed the sky all day, shadows straying across fields and dirt roads. I walked against the traffic of the clouds, their streaming east down the dry highway, echoed by shadows and by dust-arousing cars. I walked their windblown dust. Soon my feet itched where they met the shoes because, sockless, I had come to wear brown leggings of sweat-streaked dust. As the clouds have abandoned all hope of making their endless goal befo

When I was first beginning to seriously contemplate a life of  poetry writing and living in Ann Arbor, I hear Galway Kinnell read at en event held by the University of Michigan. I went down the street to the Centicore Bookstore (also RIP) and bought what they had available. How he influenced me is hard for me to describe. Style, yes a bit. Subject, yes his revelations of the holy in flesh and life and what some would call profane. I mourn his passing on and celebrate that he left so much behind in his poetry. Here you can read some of his verse: http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/g_l/kinnell/online.htm More poems and some audios of him reading are here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/galway-kinnell#about

When I was first beginning to seriously contemplate a life of  poetry writing and living in Ann Arbor, I hear Galway Kinnell read at en event held by the University of Michigan. I went down the street to the Centicore Bookstore (also RIP) and bought what they had available. How he influenced me is hard for me to describe. Style, yes a bit. Subject, yes his revelations of the holy in flesh and life and what some would call profane. I mourn his passing on and celebrate that he left so much behind in his poetry. Here you can read some of his verse: http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/g_l/kinnell/online.htm More poems and some audios of him reading are here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/galway-kinnell#about

My poem “Eden” is included in a free Kindle of the journal Literature Today. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P4HIW0 4

My poem "Eden" is included in a free Kindle of the journal Literature Today. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P4HIW0 4

Photo from the Local Authors book fair at the Culpeper Library on November 1, 2014

Photo from the Local Authors book fair at the Culpeper Library on November 1, 2014

Appalachia: Poems by Charles Wright My rating: 4 of 5 stars Charles Wright is a spiritual poet who questions everything including his questions. He is a poet of nature who suspects that nature has a trick up her sleeve. Landscape and language interplay and he asks much of both, received much, but never enough. In this collection, he reads from an imagined “Appalachian Book of the Dead” and takes us deep into wonder, and fear, and hope, and resignation, “Until there is nothing else” but silence. View all my reviews

Appalachia: Poems by Charles Wright My rating: 4 of 5 stars Charles Wright is a spiritual poet who questions everything including his questions. He is a poet of nature who suspects that nature has a trick up her sleeve. Landscape and language interplay and he asks much of both, received much, but never enough. In this collection, he reads from an imagined "Appalachian Book of the Dead" and takes us deep into wonder, and fear, and hope, and resignation, "Until there is nothing else" but silence. View all my reviews