Saturday, July 2, 2011


…Happy Weekend to You.
Happy almost Independence Day.
Happy Happy.
I hope you’re happy.

…I have:
--two new poems, "The Great Purchase" and "Ribbons of Color" up at The Scarlet Sound
--a story, "Anything" at Apocrypha and Abstractions
--a story, "Up High On a Shelf, The Living and the Dead" at Negative Suck
--and another story, "Gladiolas" at Left Hand Waving
--All are also here under "Words in Print."

…I had a good writing day in the tub yesterday and finished some poems which put me over 800 pieces since I started I May of '09.
I also queried a publishing house for a potential story and poetry collection. Keep your fingers crossed for me, or knock on wood. I'll be very grateful to you.

…I don't know why it's such a struggle to stick with novel writing.
Okay, actually I do know why.
There are many reasons.
Poetry and stories are quick an easy. You spew them out and then move on. That way there's not enough time to doubt yourself.
Plus there's the ego rush of getting things published.
But I have two novels to write.
I have two novels to write by the end of this year.
That was the arrangement, the bargain, the dealio I struck with myself around January One 2011.
I will get back on that horse soon. Yes I will. Let me just get my saddle first.

Come Pick Me Up
There are storms here. The wind picks up, picks up the leaves the detritus branches and leftover limbs, throws the lake into a rippled wrinkled panic, and I think maybe I should step outside, into it, let it pick me up as well, take me to some high heaven or hell, fly and float going every which way, no more important that molted feathers or dust, dying to be somewhere else, anywhere, maybe there, where you are, or Egypt Puerto Rico Galveston Manitoba.
The wind is not always wicked. Sometimes it knows my name. Often it will share secrets. It secretes as much as it tells. When the wind winds down the earth is like a top that’s tilted one way, as if it has a side ache because the tip is so pointed and will not allow any leveling to occur. That is how the planet is after windy days. The soil is stressed. The plants looked worn and exhausted, like aged athletes that have probably pushed themselves too hard.
The next time we have a storm I will raise my hands. I will reach out for a cloud and I will be swept away and when that happens you will say a prayer for me.


  1. Len,

    I AM happy, thanks. My story Tranquility Lake which you commented on some time ago is now published in The Linnet's Wings. I hope you enjoy it. The link is here

  2. andrew,
    i did see it. love the word play, the tight sparseness. my internet connection is iffy here where i live and i tried to comment at facebook but kept getting booted off.
    great job!