memorial for a brilliant woman

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

It's really difficuly sometimes to get the word out- but the good news is,

Thursday October 5th

What's the poetry bus?? Find out here!

I hope we can rally the local poets to support this event. Check out FlashPaperPoetry Day-by Day for more events in Central Virginia.

Support your Local Poets!!
Epigram as title

Beauty hates ideas.
-Jean Cocteau

when you say you walk though
the shadowed valley of death
I say all valleys are in shadow
twice a day, all sunsets fade, die
when the time comes, not before

or sense, uncommon denominator,
those without it don't seem to know,
those with weep under it's weight, still,
the sun moves, follow it with your eyes,
anyone who says otherwise is full of shit.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

I received notification of winning the "Gulf Coast Ethnic and Heritage Jazz Festival" contest out of Mobile, Alabama today!

It's not well known, I suppose, but the $100 check they enclosed is fabulous!

Since I plan on submitting it elsewhere I'm not putting it on the webpage, but if you want to request a copy I'll send it to you.

AND ...if you love music and a free CD and a magazine- GO NOW and buy the Music Issue of the Oxford American. I have all but issue # 1 and you will enjoy the 2006 copy. David Wojahn has a delightful piece on Townes Van Zandt, and Floyd Skloot wrote about Eartha Kitt.

Can't beat that- 'cept for my big check!

(don't forget to visit my other current publications on the web: and The Hiss Quarterly.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Hראש השנה

Happy Rosh Hashanah!!

It's a wonderful cool night here in Central Virginia, though it seems as if the rest of the world is falling apart.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Pork- the defining issue

Senator George Allen (don't waste your vote) on his Jewish heritage-

Speaking with The Richmond Times-Dispatch, Allen said the disclosure is "just an interesting nuance to my background." He added, "I still had a ham sandwich for lunch. And my mother made great pork chops."

This man should never get near the oval office. His 'white-good-old-boy' sensibilities, are reprehensible.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

It's my poem translated into art by John Walters- it's the big dark one with the small woman in red and black- I can't seem to upload the file-

Here IT is-

Monday, September 18, 2006

September 18, 2006

We've been working on the house. A new storm door, rotten wood removed and replaced, more bags of crap and clothes to the Goodwill. I am dry of poems, dry of ideas, too tired to sit and write right now.

The week coming up looks better, but the hubby is on afternoon shift which means he goes to work at noon and gets home at 8:30 pm.

And all week- poetry stuff and other

Mon- SlamRichmond Too begins tonight at Comedy Improv- 7pm
Tues- Open Mike at Barnes & Noble Libbie Place 7:30
Wed- Poetic Principles at the Virginia Museum 6pm
Thursday- meeting
Friday- 4th Friday at Artspace

I need to get some bags of poems made up for that- I could probably sell a few-

and submit, submit, and submit again.


Tuesday, September 12, 2006

The new issue of is up!

It's one of my favorite webzines (since 1998) and you can find two poems that belong to me (both prizewinners in state contests)

Moirae and Sabino Canyon, Arizona

check out the rest of the zine, too!

Monday, September 04, 2006

Tears for the Crocodile Hunter

Too soon, too soon, the loons cry
on TV, too young to be undone
by all he loved and knew, it’s true
he took chances, embedded as he was.
In truth, a fatal wound from friendly fire
is always what a soldier least expects.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Poetry Thursday (rewritten into Friday)

No Small Bills, no change

She comes in on a weak front like an afterthought,
as the last white wedding dress drizzles of snow
disappear before they're seen, pretty in a so-so way.

Arms full of junk food at the WaWa checkout,
she scans an Enquirer cover, checks for cousins,
brothers, all the while guzzling a grape Nehi.

Her watch stopped at 2:06 three months ago.
now afternoons last all day, well into the night
she weeps because she can't remember why.

He said "Plastic". No one carries paper money,
you can get all you need for a promise, ask God,
he's the king of hope for the disembodied.

If you look carefully you'll see the scars
from where her sixth fingers were removed,
that is, if you count the thumb as a finger.

She had to take piano lessons and roll quarters
for years, just to fit in to rest of the world.
No one wants to take change from a retard,

or hold hands, though her brain is fine,
better than, as she swipes the smooth card
wearing a secret smile, no visible flaws.