New Piece over at Berg-Gasse 19

"Overtime."
A minimalist vignette.
Rejected as a bad poem at one journal.
Understood and published at this one.

http://berg-gasse19.com/2011/04/14/overtime/

A Question for You

You could see it as a debilitating sickness. Or. You could see it as an opportunity to slow down and organize. This last week I contracted a bad cold or some such which has slowed my thinking and moving to a crawl. Very frustrating to someone who tends to ride the carousel of his artistic ADD like a manic 6-year old nature spirit. Part of this time has been spent looking at how I spend my time creating, the directions in which I expend this energy, and the deep, real reasons I create and share.

This is where you come in...

I have had this blog for some time. Initially it was used as an immediate venue for creative writing, not having the patience to submit, wait, file the rejection slip, and start over. I wanted to create and share, then move on to the next thing. As time has progressed, I am submitting more and getting published more, which has forced me to rethink the role of this blog.

So, I have decided to do what I haven't seen other bloggers do: Ask you, followers of this blog what YOU want to see. What would keep you coming back? In short, what would be worth your time to visit and read?

• More introspection on the world around us?
• Reviews of local lit, readings, publications, websites?
• My own works, for critique before submitting them for publication?
• Something completely different?

Post your suggestions as comments to this post, or feel free to email me at michael at thedayonfire dot com.

 I will take your suggestions seriously and hopefully start soon with a new focus for this online journal of thoughts. I thank you for being interested in what I have to say, and appreciate your input on how it should look moving forward.

Cheers, Michael

Dear M. Star

I know. I stopped. The sounds outside wouldn't and I grew tired of falling asleep, even in your arms. Deep as you were, the world changed as you rode your single wrenching wave. I remember the day I started walking, sad I could no longer fade into you.

I'm sorry.
Let's meet every fall by the water.
Let's say little
and drift off over and over again.

Yours,
m.

Green

I pulled up alongside a kid at the light this morning. He was stomping the floor violently with his face craned up. In part, I figured, because his car had no bass. In another, because life just wouldn't turn green.

Movement in Movement

Lots of good movement lately in new realms.

Sending out writing for publication

Meeting local filmmakers for possible collaboration

New artist collaboration web project moving forward. I believe I have found a web guy who will (at least) start it up gratis. This is the biggest thing on my plate right now. It will be a place for (again at least to start)local artist of all kinds to come together, create responses to works, connect with artists of other media for collaboration and more. I will try to get grants to get artists paid. I think it can be big. I will feed it good food, love it, and call it George.

If you haven't checked out my main website, you should. It has a new coat of paint: http://www.thedayonfire.com

Cheers,
Michael

Light Makes Shadow

And I've seen talks of faith turn up
noses in the face of
abandon they don't understand

Hazel Motes
the man in the body
of the world

Feet full of stones
the harder path that knows nothing
of miracles conjured for the hope at home
of a laying of hands on your hard-earned
thoughts
the harder path that brings heaven down
to hold its own in the alleys paved
by what it was all sacrificed for
a thousand psalms ago when sand
was biblical and things that burn
were meant to burn when piety
was a harsh librarian who
had read all the pages
and could tell you how some were better
than others and how you could recombine
them depending on why you believed the sun
rose each and every
But in it all lies
the lie the truth
not marketed in the product
of ink
in the pulce before the tequila

You know what comes next
the idea before the reasons
to cast it in stone, in tablets
we carry and quote and that which
does not reside in the stone shall
not be embraced and if you reject
there will be no cookies or juice
or salvation after the keynote
speaker for you or your guests

I've seen the idea
living under the Hennepin Street
Bridge but he stinks and swears
and his grammar ain't so good
and well the last thing he thought
you'd do is sit and talk a while and
record everything he spit and say
goodbye and head straight for the
press to give birth to a bestseller
based on the words of a man mad
enough to believe in the peace and
clarity and absence of hate that
might make a place you won't want to leave
for Portland.

Love Note

the point of love
is real and
rents under itself

a laughing keystone
to the outer and inner
rings of desire

but sex is the weak conceit
a child with a child with a child
with a heart