--I’M STILL KEEPING ALL MY HOPES UP HIGH 

 

I’m days removed from AWP now. The high has started to fade, though filaments of joy remain, settled somewhere inside my chest cavity like a new organ, pulsing softly.

 

AWP (A Writers Program), or in this case, a juggernaut of some ten thousand scribes, moves from city to city each year like a miraculous carnival bearing gifts for those brave and bold enough to seize them. I say “brave” because most writers are, by nature, introverted, somewhat awkward beings, unused to swimming amongst throngs of humanity—strangers, accomplished artists, emerging writers, students, publishers, teachers, scholars, public speakers, and such.  

 

Most people who attend have a specific mission—find their manuscript a home, connect with people in the writing community, attend panels, fix a plot problem, or simply get unstuck. 

 

I’ve been every one of those examples, this being my 12^th AWP. A person I admire very much wrote me saying, “I guess we’re part of the old guard now.” And maybe she’s right. But the one thing AWP is sure to make happen—if you show up and do your level best to get out of your shell--is rekindle your passion. 

I only remember a single Bible verse: this one—“Lord restoreth unto me the joy of my salvation”—which was written by David when he was in a pretty dark place in his life.

I wouldn’t say I’ve been in a dark place, but it hasn’t exactly been shimmering. Every day I write at least three or four “things,” but for the last several years, unless queried, I’ve sent those nowhere. Hence, they’ve just been dying in my computer.

 

But something happened to me, as it always does when I’m at AWP. Something that’s really difficult to explain to anyone outside of the writing world. For four days, I was dropped into this nether world that is very much like college where you’re surrounded by like-minded people who love, and even crave, the very same things you do—Art. The art of words and language and the distinct beauty they create.  

For instance, I heard Ben Drevlow open up a reading with the booming words, “I am your Trash Daddy,” while proceeding to speak of trash in stunning, metaphorical ways for ten minutes straight while not once glancing at a piece of paper. 

I listened to Tara Campbell read from her phone about a “tired uterus” that made me laugh and swoon and check myself.

Nancy Stohlman’s piece about a lost phone, a lost love, a lost phone number bouncing back and forth in time was riveting, mysterious and mesmerizing. 

And on and on it went. On some scale, everywhere I looked something miraculous was happening, or else someone remarkable was standing mere feet away.

But for me to try to describe this to a someone who isn’t a creative junkie? Well, I’m not that talented or articulate. I’d sound like a loon to them, and I get why. Trash Daddy? Tired Uterus? Dude, lay off the psychedelics. 

I can’t expect anyone to understand that one of my favorite parts was being jammed into a single hotel room, reading with thirty jittery, sweaty, awkward writer types. Or the sheer joy of finally meeting Sarah Freligh, who is part gunslinger, part human tornado, and 100 percent brilliance, nearly shouting, “Aww, Fuck Len!! It’s you.”

 

To my way of thinking, to my heart, it doesn’t get any better than all that. And so, yes, the euphoria is slipping some now, but where there’s a crack or two, a thick scrim of gratitude fills every vacant space.

 

I loved meeting, hugging or laughing, with every one of these incredibles:

 

Robert Vaughan, Kelli Short Borges, Joani Reese, Katherine DiBella Seluja, Kim Chinquee, Frances Badgett, Jackie Doyle, Lori Sambol Brody, Beth Gilstrap, Elissa Field, J.D. Islip, Luke Rolfes, Kathryn Silver-Hajo, Sarah Freligh, Vallie Lynn Watson, Sara Lippman, Jayne Martin, Brett Pribble, Nina Schyler, Kristen Henderson, Nancy Stohlman, Alina Stefanescu, Jennifer Vulgamore Vanderheyden, Kim Magowan, Michelle Ross, Tom Hedt, Mathieu Cailler, Amy Amarilis, Donna Hilbert, Sarah Chavez, Miette Reader, Sherry Flick, Kona Morris, Tommy Dean, Michael Czyzniejewski, Kai Coggin, Lynn Mundel, Helen Rye, Christopher Allen, Ki Russell, Tara Campbell, Roberto Carlos Garcia, Brenna Kischuk, Josh Gaines, Stephanie Austin, Ben Drevlow, Melissa Flores Anderson, Robert James Russell, Claudia Monpere, Kim Steutermann Rogers, Shaun Anthony McMichael, Dylan Krieger 

 —WHEN YOU HAVE FOREVER TO THINK, EVERYTHING BECOMES BEAUTIFUL         

 

Trees

 

Sometimes I get jealous 

of the trees 

so stoic and sober 

how nothing rattles them 

but earthquakes

they even dance when its windy 

Tango Cha-Cha The Macarena 

and sure they could be cut down 

but couldn’t we all 

aren’t we all cut down lately

licking our paws obsessively 

like dogs eaten up by parasites  

the trees taller than giraffes 

earth’s loftiest creature 

the trees as patient as sundown

the trees staring blithely below 

at our foibles and predilections 

like ancient owls with too much 

time on their hands 

the trees who know all 

secrets of Mother Earth 

the trees who might save us 

if only we had the balls to beg

—AND YOU, YOU’RE PRETTY AS A PICTURE, YET I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME

  

The Backup Singers

 

Almost 65 now, I’m told, 

too much frosting, 

or not enough, 

who’s the true judge 

of such things? 

But at the family 

gathering,

the Littles flit and 

knock about, 

their parents (my children) 

oblivious but aware 

of everything-- 

my tremors and intake,

the rise and fall of 

days and years

flashing by--

slathering their faces with it,

a beautiful mockery. 

Back when I was 

an uncertain cloud,

there was a party, 

much like this one,

where the Old Littles  

also gathered behind 

the egg-shaped table

like a sinful choir, 

named as such 

by the man blowing 

out candles on

his frosted cake, 

smoke scissoring 

the terse air 

like a final threat 

or promissory note

written in smoke--

we were never sure which

until the last bottle 

bled out, 

when one of us 

would sing again,

a solo, everything

he demanded to hear,

staring at his belt 

and tarnished buckle 

the entire time,

its stem either 

a divining rod or

red hot needle,

depending upon how long 

the note was held.

 —I’M NOT HOLDING MY BREATH. YOU?

 

…I never know what to do when my computer won’t do what it’s supposed to.

 

…I still can’t tell you what a carburetor or predicate is.

 

…I want my joy pure without that echo in my head. 

 

…Whenever I hear myself starting to get a little too bleak on here, I hear my best friend asking, “Are you okay, dude?” and try to course correct, though sometimes it’s too late.

 

…I can only recall my best friend coming to my office once in 24 years’ time. After he left, my Admin came in all flushed and said, “I feel like I just met a Beatle.” That’s how much I loved the guy, and still do.

 

…Critter and Clover, the two parakeets in our house, love the sound of running water. Any time I’m at the sink, they immediately go bonkers. I always think this has something to do with their ancient DNA, like hearing the sound of waterfalls in the rainforest. But for some other reason entirely, they always love football.

 

…The best advice I ever got from my dad (and maybe the only advice I remember): You may not be smarter than everyone else, but you can always out-work them. 

 

…Can you tell a story wrong? I suppose it depends on the story.

 

…You’re all you’ve got.

 

…Even in the face of an apocalypse, it turns out to be pretty easy to have one’s feelings hurt. 

 

…You can appreciate things at four in the morning that would go right on past you during the day.

 

…What’s a little too easy is getting sucked into a bad place.

 

…The mind pulls a blindfold out of its pocket on certain occasions.

 

…I always wondered why there are so many personal injury lawyer ads, but then I learned Washington state has 80,000 car accidents every year.

 

…I thought this was interesting, especially given that the vast majority of young people, especially Red-leaning young white males, get their news from the internet:

“Let’s not forget that the people who consumed a lot of media about the Boston Marathon bombing experienced “higher acute stress” than those who were actually at the bombing. Screens contribute to a catastrophizing mind-set.” S.K. Sterling, PhD

 

…“I will never be young again. Or any younger than I am today. I will never be faster or more flexible. I will never win competitions against 22-year-old wrestlers in my weight class. I will never be a black belt. None of these things will happen. But none of that matters anymore.” Anthony Bourdain

 

…Remember how good it felt to hug someone for the first time after COVID?

 

…If I know one thing, I know one thing.

 

…Me going on a book tour is me slipping under the covers and turning on the bedside lamp with a book in one hand and a pen in the other.

 

…Writers who don’t write are unhappy people.

 

…"Writing turns you into somebody who's always wrong. The illusion that you may get it right someday is the perversity that draws you on. What else could? As pathological phenomena go, it doesn't completely wreck your life." Phillip Roth

 

…“Research suggests that most friendships dissolve over time due to life transitions, with up to 70% of friendships ending after seven years,” Dr. Christina Lee

 

…The easiest way to fix it is to just ignore it.

 

…But, like the pandemic, it’ll still be there in the morning. 

 

…“Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but, most of all, endurance.” James Baldwin

 

…What love means to the people who love me, I don’t know.

 

…“Like the man said: eat dessert first, life is uncertain. Point being, the way the world turns, the inevitable grind of history seems to indicate that places like this and people like this get plowed under, pushed aside, paved over.

Who owns paradise, after all? Who, in the end, gets to own paradise, use paradise or even visit it? That’s a question that’s probably worth paying attention to before there’s none left at all.” Anthony Bourdain 

 

…This is a little bit how I feel about my blog…

“I don't really care whether people like the show. Ideally, you'll really like this episode, you'll hate next week's episode, you'll be confused by the following week's episode and you'll love the one after that. That would be perfect for me. I just don't want to do the same thing all the time. If you are reliably making people, even your core audience, happy, you are doing something wrong. I'm much more interested in trying to be creative, trying to stay interested, trying to push my crew and my creative partners to do their best work. I'm fully aware that, if that's your priority, you are going to make some people unhappy on a regular basis. That's what I do. I don't know if that's a recipe for success. It probably isn't. The recipe for success is to make the stupidest show about bacon and burgers, fill it with plenty of rodeos and Americana, get yourself frosted tips and some goofy cargo shorts and a signature look and be sure you have a catch phrase, and you are well on your way.”

–Anthony Bourdain

 

…I don’t want to transition or anything, but sometimes I wish I wasn’t a male.

 

…I saw a huge sign in an outdoor mall that read: 

SAVE 100% 

WHEN YOU 

DON’T BUY 

ANYTHING 

 

…“Hurting yourself is easy. Living is hard.” Loudermilk

 

…Is there really light at the end of the tunnel? Hmmm.

 

…Remember when we were going to                        ?

 

…Those ducks showed up right in the nick of time. (Also, that’s an expression I’ve never used before in my life.)

 

…If there’s such a thing as better than flawless it would be “Adolescence.” 

 

…I saw an ad for a company that makes incredible recreations of dogs and their push was to get a replica of a deceased pet for someone to help them with the grieving process, but every single image was of some person squeezing the stuffed animal while sobbing uncontrollably.

 

…“The air tastes braless when I’m drunk.” Kandace Siobhan Walker

 

…Let’s get the day back, shall we?

 

—IT’S HARD TO FIND AN ANGEL WHEN IT’S HELL ON EARTH

 

 

Sugar Ants

 

Back then   he could say     he was young      and foolish      desperate for love     same as anyone    still lithe and thick-haired      easy with a laugh or smirk   Maybe it was one of the girls   who gave him the handle    Sugar   because it stuck    like a lozenge   meant to be sucked    instead of swallowed   He was different later   of course   had to find his women    through electronics  and habituation     sly scouting    At home     the ants came   out of cracks   in columns   thinner than scars    or ligature marks     black specks the size of     shredded pepper   vermin that hustled    over the sink counter     bathroom tiles and    bedside nightstand     Mom was always     jittery    yet she felt lucky    loving the quarterback all these years   jesting You still got it Sugar    even the critters want some    But at that point    it was he   who did the sourcing     a detective on and off    the job    his assignment as he saw it    to reclaim the glory days   which were my unspoken thoughts    not his    for how do you make sense    of camouflaged evil     when it hugs you    pats your back    says Son you’re a tall bastard now   that laugh again    his new set of eyes     nearly as black as     the ants that danced    throughout our home   the ones that still come looking    even after all    the carnage   and flood of    unsweetened tears. 

Why I Take The Bus

She's always in the back 

my daughter 

strapped safely in 

the car seat 

asleep or making up 

sign language 

with her chubby fingers 

the ones I used to 

nibble so she'd giggle 

my daughter 

who will never turn 

older than three 

asleep and dreaming 

in the back seat 

where the sun isn't scorching 

where no one's left her 

and she isn't locked 

inside a car 

in the back seat 

just like that

 

—I’VE BEEN STARING AT THE SUN FOR SIX WHOLE DAYS

 

…My hope is like a suntan—it looks really good for a while but always fades. 

 

…Sometimes I just wallow in it.

 

…On the flip side, there are a lot of cute babies being born every day.

 

…A few weeks back I was going to quit The Washington Post after their owner demanded that the paper’s opinion editor essentially stop giving his opinion on certain matters. But the publication has a column I love called The Optimist. I’d share links to some of my favorite columns, but you’d have to be a subscriber to open them. The most recent was about this local convenience store in a small town that carried a random array of items including VHS tapes which his best customer loved the most, especially the Disney movies. She has Down Syndrome and would come in every other day with her mom to pick out a film, most of which she had seen dozens of times. But then the store’s lease expired, rent got raised very high, and so he had to relocate. He’d been planning to scale down his assortment to increase profitability. But instead of eliminating archaic VHS tapes, he actually created a special spot that featured only Disney movies and above the shelves he put up a sign reading Christine’s Corner, named after his best (and favorite) customer. Christine and her mother had feared the store’s move, and so when they entered the new place on opening day and saw what the owner had done, well, there were a lot of joyful tears. Some were mine. The photograph is priceless.

 

…Some things are easy to disbelieve, but then there are others that, while they’re still hard to fathom, make you want them to be true. For instance, the notion that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on the earth—that’s something I hope is real.

 

…Yesterday was the first day of Spring and it rained. Boy was it pretty.   

 

…What’s scary is watching how fast the second hand can hustle.

 

…This is bliss, this is hell, forever is a feeling, and I know it well.

 

…It’s true—I’ve never met a hoodie I didn’t like.

 

…I’ve tried, but I still can’t describe to you what the word masculine means.

 

…It’s pretty hard to dislike a song with a ukulele in it. Most all of them are happy little ditties.

 

…I’m not a fan of dressing up pets. Every dog in a costume looks traumatized and defeated while their owner stands by with a dopey grin or a thumbs up.

 

…Don’t the majority of people watch films for the same reason they read, to escape into a different world for a while? Then why have they stopped reading? My theory is that they look at reading the same way they do a film with subtitles: it seems like it’ll be too much work, even though once you start watching, you almost forget you’re following along by subtitles.

 

…The problem with being overly superstitious is it doesn’t work most of the time.

 

…A writer I love a posted a short little video on social media entitled Hello my book is real and I cried showing her opening a box of her latest book and, yes, I got a little weepy right along with her. I can’t believe how adorable she was, crying and laughing and tossing the book up in the air, saying, “It’s a bit heavy, so even if you don’t read it, you can use all the pages to fan yourself when you’re too warm.” And it went on, even more adorable. It’s really rare to see something that authentic and vulnerable in my little corner of the world. 

 

…The full moon’s reflection rippling in the water—now there’s a sight.

 

…I saw a lone goose floating on the lake, which is also pretty rare because they always swim in groups, plus at this time of year, most of them are down south. Poor guy, I thought.

 

…As you know, I tend to be too superstitious. For a long time, I thought seeing a crow was bad luck. But then I found out how smart they are (crows, like elephants, are one of the few animals that can feel deep sadness, and grieve at the death of one of their own.) Now I feel lucky, like it’s a good sign, whenever a crow flies by. Yesterday I saw a whole flock. 

 

…“There’s something about creating that brings nurturing back into your life, where it reminds you that we are put on this earth to do more than just survive. In a world where we have so little control, I feel like being able to write a song is the one thing that I still have control over.” Brontez Purnell 

 

…I haven’t been super anxious in a spell, thank God. I wouldn’t wish anxiety on (almost) anybody.

 

…Maybe you know, but I had to look up what “bupkis” means.

 

…In checking out this year’s lineup for Lollapalooza I saw about 100 bands I’ve never heard of, one with the name People R Ugly.

 

…Sometimes it’s hard to remember things, yet it seems like it’s so easy to remember the things you’d like to forget. 

 

…“I can’t believe this is the job. Just plumb the depths and give it away!” Lucy Dacus

 

…Did you know that a lack of social connection has been shown to be as detrimental to one’s health as smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day?

 

…Whenever people say, “It’s not too late,” I always want to ask, “Are you sure?”

 

…Asking for a favor after being insulted is usually not a good idea. 

 

…Hey, is this all real? I say that to myself way too much anymore.

 

…When I asked ChatGPT: “Who is Len Kuntz?” it said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name.” 

 

…Somehow I’m staying off the floor. Yay.

 

…Posted on social media:

Pardon my crudity. Sorry not sorry.

Fun Fact: A blue whale's anus can stretch to about 3.5 feet in diameter—making it the second biggest asshole on the planet.

 

… “You write poems because you need a place where what isn’t may be.”  Alejandra Pizarnik

 

…People can hate on Amazon all they want, but you have to give them props for having a good thing going. It’s almost like all I have to do is just think about something I want, and it shows up at my door three hours later.

 

…I might be wrong, but it seems to me that you can usually tell how much someone cares about you by how many questions they ask.

 

… “When you start thinking about what people like, you start thinking about what people expect. Then you start pandering to people's expectations. Then you start talking about yourself in the third person. And then you end up overdosed in a hotel room. I learned very early on not to think about that. You go out there and do the best you can, and you do things that are interesting to you. Hopefully it will be interesting to other people. I don't want to be adequate. I'd rather fail gloriously making something strange, awesome but ultimately a failure.” --Anthony Bourdain

 

…I feel so bad for people who don’t have a personality, because I seem to have so many.

 

…I wonder if cancelling plans on someone is as painful for other people as it is for me. Something tells me it’s not.

 

…I’m intrigued with tattoos for all sorts of reasons, but someone has to explain the allure of a back tattoo to me.

 

… "I saw a crow building a nest, I was watching him very carefully, I was kind of stalking him and he was aware of it. And you know what they do when they become aware of someone stalking them when they build a nest, which is a very vulnerable place to be? They build a decoy nest. It’s just for you," Tom Waits

 

…I remember standing in the coffee line at my very first writer’s conference. Two people in front of me was this mantis of a woman, so frail that a strong wind might break a few of her bones. When she turned slightly, I realized it was Joyce Carol Oates. No one else even knew.

 

…“My painting is dead. I am not in the right place. I am not a painter.” Michelangelo, while painting the Sistine Chapel

 

…Who knew there were so many writers? But where are all the readers?

 

…A social media post yesterday:

PSA: If you don’t want your child to be gay, trans, etc., then just don’t have kids. This isn’t fucking build-a-bear. You don’t get to pick and choose these things about your child. You aren’t ready to be a parent if you aren’t ready to love them unconditionally.

 

…People who don’t care if they’re liked or not are people I’ve never met.

 

…How strange, to be a country without friends.

 

…I love Dylan, but I don’t think there is a single answer blowing in the wind.

 

…“Who is it that can tell me who I am?” Shakespeare, King Lear

 

…We only live once, if at all.

 

…I’m envious of people who can deal with conflict and not let it bother them afterwards.

 

…I’m one of the lone few who isn’t a Beatles fan. Nope. But I think Paul McCartney is the real deal. Anyone at his age and stage of acclaim (is there even a comparable person?) who still admits that’s he’s needy and looking for approval all the time is somebody I’d trust with just about anything. 

 

…“You blows who you is.” Louis Armstrong

 

…Good listening is more than just listening.

 

…When you start your day, do you expect something good to happen? Or do you just go about it not really expecting anything one way or the other?

 

…Where do you find your heroes, not someone perfect, but someone to emulate or at least look to when you need an example?  

 

…It’s important to remember how lucky you are. No matter what, you are lucky.  

 

…“There are notes between notes, you know.” Sarah Vaughan

 

…I used to be really good under pressure. When I think about those days, I don’t even believe it. Like maybe that wasn’t me. Now I’ve got to write a story by Monday, and I have the opening line, but every time I write further it’s just blob after blob of word salad.

 

…I guess no one can tell you you’re trying too hard except yourself.

 

…Respect is a heavy word, but really, isn’t it just prioritizing your actions according to how much you care about someone? 

 

…There are some stories you just don’t want to end, and then there are those you don’t want to know how they end.

 

…“I’m not sick, but I’m not well.” I’ve always loved that lyric by Harvey Danger. It’s clever and has a lot of legs. A lot of days I could wear a necklace with those words printed on it.

 

…"The worst? Easy. The man who comes in and as soon as you see or hear him you know he's saying, 'I am determined, no matter what happens, to have a miserable time tonight. Whether the food is great or not, and no matter what the wine and service are like, I will show off in front of my companions and make life hell for the waiter, because my life is all about power and I am a seriously unhappy jerk.' There are plenty of them. Everywhere. Them and the psycho food nerds. They take notes while eating, for Christ's sake. They're not the very worst but they're worrisome, demanding for the chef. Chefs and regular restaurant-goers are the best, and leave the best tips. I love other chefs." Anthony Bourdain

 

…I hope your Spring is off to a stellar start and that your weekend brings you all kinds of joy. Life has some hard knuckles, but there’s lots of joy, too. Let’s both look for some today.