These past 12 months have been difficult for Lady what with discovering eye cancer, 3 days radiation, the radiation worsening her vision by aggravating a cataract, and now a gel glop of steroids floating like a squid black ink spill inside her eye for a couple weeks — in 3 months she can get the cataract removed and once healed get new glasses and see what she can see.

Here’s my latest monthly feature ion Medusa’s Kitchen.

All 246 poems published so far by Medusa’s Kitchen since October 2015 will make up my upcoming book “Where Never Was Already Is” from Crisis Chronicles Press. Medusa’s Kitchen resides in California, where publisher/editor Kathy Kieth posts a plethera of poets and artists every day of the year for years and years. My poems range from 1965 thru 2018. Once a month since I’ve sent her 10 fotod, 9 poems, and 1 song which she posted. It’s my 2nd best best gig so far after my publishing 21 issues of Artcrimes in 21 years (at a $20,000 loss).

Should be an interesting book because each month I’d pick the 9 new and or old poems that appealed to me most at the moment. I sent all the Medusa poems to John Burroughs (editor publisher of Crisis Chronicles Press) thinking since I’d selected the 14.5% of what I thought were among my best, he could take the best of my best for the book, but he read them and said “Let’s publish them all.”

And since they were spread over 27 months, we’ll have 27 chapters, each with its own mood and feel and Smith collage as cover art.

Really looking forward to this. It will become my public reading bible.

Poems by decade in upcoming “Where Never Was Already Is”
1960s – 2
1970s – 4
1980s – 9
1990s – 10
2000s – 29
2010s – 186
(seems be a discrepency in my counts… have to recheck).

3 recent posts up at WineDrunk Sidewalk where publisher/editor John Grochalsi is posting a political poem or art daily as long as small-handed but greedy-fingered Trump’s in office. Here are 2 poems, one collage.

Here’s today’s Februwary 5-poet poem-a-day-a-thon.

Booking the Dead

Early 1950’s mom gave birth
to child three
a continuous squawl
who cried 9 months and died.
Next morning before school
I looked in on him
saw a live baby unknown dead.
When I got home and was told
I tried to resee with new eyes
but it was after fact
dead baby gone
no goodbye.

33 years later 30 year-old child four
blows his brains out over
too much speed and alcohol
woman trouble
and having to carry his work partner
our failng father
whose polio shriveled leg is crumbling
from 50 years of brick, block, and stone.
Pappy’s call wakes me.
“Vince shot himself.”
“He’s okay isn’t he?”

Two year on Pappy died
wasted from missing his suicide son.
I flew out before he went
to see a 1/3 smaller once proud man
carried to the toilet
wiped when done.
He was good, kind, patient.
I loved him but left home at 17
so didn’t know him.
Mom called two weeks later
with he’s dead don’t come out
nothing to be done.

Moved her in with me
for final 16 years of her life.
When she went
she was home holding my hand
slipping in and out of consciousness
stopping breath
again and again for hours.

One unseen disappeared dead baby,
two long distance phone calls,
and one holding hand
slow taking her through passage…

Take door 4 every time.

 – 2.11.2018

One Response

  1. Glad the recovery is on schedule, what alot to endure, she is a strong person with such a positive attitude.
    This poem is outstanding.
    Thanks foe the link to Winedrunk, really looking forward to your book.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *