Manic Frustration “If I do not write to empty my mind, I go mad.” ~Lord Byron

Recently, my new poem, entitled "Passerine", was accepted for publication in the October 2012 issue of Full of Crow Poetry. Full of Crow Poetry is edited by Lynn Alexander who I had the pleasure of receiving a personal correspondence from after submitting. Lynn collects and eclectic mix of poetry from all over the world for Full of Crow Poetry and you can check out the rest of the submissions, as well as mine, at this link: Full of Crow Poetry October 2012

For information about submissions, visit the Full of Crow submission page here.

There's a storm blowin' in. Sometime. At least that's what they say. I'm not particularly worried, though. I've weathered the storms before. All kinds of them. Some of them worse than others. They say this one is a big one. Panic and scrambling people clearing the shelves of milk and eggs. All I grabbed this morning was some coffee and tea.

Lauren Zuniga @ the Vintage Theater

Lauren Zuniga and the Breaking Ground Poets

Richard Mourdock (R) wikipedia.com

“I just struggled with it myself for a long time, but I came to realize: Life is that gift from God that I think even if life begins in that horrible situation of rape, that it is something that God intended to happen." 
~Richard Mourdock (R-Indiana)

After reading this quote from Republican Treasurer of Indiana, Richard Mourdock, and watching the accompanying video of these exact words leaving Mourdock's mouth, I still couldn't believe it. Multiple times I checked the site address to confirm I hadn't stumbled on to The Onion. 

But it shouldn't surprise me. After Todd Akin's (R-Missouri) "legitimate rape" comment where he endowed the human vagina with, apparently, magical powers to differentiate between rape sperm and consensual sperm, I should expect anything from the mouths of politicians.

What really got to me this morning was reading Texas Senator John Cornyn's support of Mourdock and his biblical pandering. Coryn is the chairman of the Senate Republicans.

“Richard and I, along with millions of Americans — including even Joe Donnelly — believe that life is a gift from God. To try and construe his words as anything other than a restatement of that belief is irresponsible and ridiculous. In fact, rather than condemning him for his position, as some in his party have when it’s come to Republicans, I commend Congressman Donnelly for his support of life.”

Many have blasted Mourdock, rightfully, for what he's said and have accused him of suggesting that God ordains rape to bring about life. Mourdock stated in a post-debate interview:

"God creates life, and that was my point. God does not want rape, and by no means was I suggesting that He does. Rape is a horrible thing, and for anyone to twist my words otherwise is absurd and sick.”

This is the problem with inserting personal, religious beliefs into politics. Mourdock says God does not ordain rape, but he ordains the pregnancy that may occur from it? Where does he pull this twisted logic from? It's certainly from somewhere much lower than his mind and lower yet than his heart.

Let's assume Mourdock didn't mean to insinuate that God pre-ordains rape. We're still left with the blatant disregard for women's rights and the interjection of religious beliefs into Mourdock's political intentions. Mourdock has every right to believe whatever spiritual or religious beliefs he wants, but he has no right to impose those beliefs on a country where not every individual, let alone every woman, share them.

And politicians like Cornyn support this kind of backward thinking? Since when? Coryn and the rest of the Republican party threw Akin under the bus for his "legitimate rape" comment earlier in the year but, now, the Senate Republicans are reconsidering their position on even this. Why?

Akin and Mourdock are both candidates in some of the closest election races this year (Akin for the House and Mourdock for the Senate). During one of the most polarized elections the country has ever witnessed, support for these two is bolstered by their party regardless of how absolutely asinine their positions may be. Why are the Republicans backing Mourdock and now rethinking their position on Akin? Because they can't afford to lose. They don't want to lose. And they'll sacrifice anything to gain the seats.

Absurd and sick, Mr. Mourdock? What is absurd and sick are your antique and ridiculous comments. Don't try to spin and pin the shame on Democrats or anyone else for your actions. What you said was loud and clear. Own it. Or, next time, just keep your mouth shut.

And since you'd like to invoke your God's plan, I'd suggest a reread of 1 Corinthians 2:11.

Truly incredible teachers sometimes seem hard to come by. At least for me, they did. I always admired and respected those who broke away from the norm. Those who challenged me. Who made me think. I didn't want to do anything for teachers who seemed like they didn't want to do anything for me. 

The Breaking Ground Poets’ mission is to inspire, foster, and promote artistic expression, personal growth, and social justice for youth in our collective communities through the use of the spoken and written word.

Our goal is to engage young people in workshops, events, and mentorship across Northeast Pennsylvania.

Although we are a new organization, our goal this year is to develop and foster young people’s capacity in creative writing, public speaking, emotional literacy, and civic engagement. We will use the transformative power of storytelling and each individual’s voice to help build a stronger community of teenage writers.

Scranton was in for a storm. An intense one, by all reports. The skies darkened their ugly, menacing grays and blacks. The rain fell at angles in sheets while trees bent against the wind, their leaves flipping up and down flashing shades of dark then light green.

Then, as soon as it began, it was over. There were no tornadoes. No fallen trees. The power hadn't even gone out. Just flickered a few times like a hiccup. The ravaging storm that the weathermen had predicted turned into a temper tantrum. It came close, but fell just a bit short.

Out I ventured. After learning of the planned open mic cancellation, I made my way to the Radisson hotel where author Stephanie Powell Watts was to read for a Pages and Places event. One Jack-and-Coke, a comfortable chair, and a few moments later, Watts took her place at the podium.

Watts read the first in her debut collection of short stories We Are Taking Only What We Need titled "Family Museum of the Ancient Postcards". Despite the chilly room and the minor microphone problems, Watts managed to engage the crowd with a great reading. Afterwards, she spoke a bit about her writing process and the completion of the collection.

Watts takes time to develop her stories and the characters within. She commented, during her reading, that "Family Museum of the Ancient Postcards", a 23-page story, took almost three years to finalize. Her process of writing is slow, by her accounts, and it's reflected within these stories in a good way. There's thought here. There's a carefully crafted image. 

Southern writer. It's a title, as Watts explains, she tries not to think about while writing. It is a title for publishers, librarians, and people like me to use when describing her work. Southern writer is a title that fits, but only superficially. Her writing goes beyond the borders of the Mason-Dixon line.

This debut collection was a PEN Hemingway Award finalist and contains the short "Unassigned Territory" which won the Pushcart Prize. Many of the stories have been featured in well-known short story anthologies. And it's no wonder why.

The stories contained within We Are Taking Only What We Need focus on a rural setting that is most certainly intimately familiar to Watts. Criss-crossing, dusty back roads dotted by houses every few miles. The hardened lives and the people who live them. These stories focus on the lost and found. Not material, but mental and emotional.

Like the storm that threatened Scranton, though, there are a few things that make We Are Taking Only What We Need fall just short of what it could have been. However, I don't believe it's much of Watts's fault as it is poor editing.

Throughout the book there are errors. Glaringly obvious errors that should have never made it past an editor. Anyone who reads knows that an awkward phrase, misspelled word, or errant punctuation can completely pull you from a story. I know it does for me. It's a shame that, because of a lackluster editor, an author's work should suffer, but it does.

I also feel that a truly good editor, or publisher, would have ordered the stories differently. This, I noticed, with the first two shorts. Both began with a character just being released from jail. It's not a bad thing to start multiple stories in a similar fashion or with similar events, but to place them one after the other in such a small collection of shorts becomes detrimental, in my opinion. It can make the writing seem redundant even when it's not the case.

Maybe it's just me, but I seem to be finding slack editing in contemporary publications more and more. Maybe it's a sign of the times. Whatever it is, I hope it stops. I hope editors begin taking their jobs seriously and realizing just how important they are when it comes to a final product.

Despite the editing problems, We Are Taking Only What We Need is an incredible read. Watts writes with beautiful description. I can see the snaking dirt roads and taste the dust. I can feel these characters' emotions. The tension and moments of clarity. Watts has a tendency, in these stories, to bring you from a wide, breathtaking view of your surroundings and focus you in tighter and tighter until the very end where she opens the chest of her characters and lets their entire being pour out.

Pick it up and read it. My hopes, for this particular collection, are for better editing in a second printing. Fix the errors. Order the stories a bit better. But, until then, you'll have to read this version. And it's worth it.

Caravaggio's St. Jerome

There's a space between the words. A brief moment where you breathe. And for a split second, everything is still. Everything is clear. I spend every day trying to capture that moment. To live in it. I haven't been successful just yet.

Sometimes I feel like my words are as light as bird bones. Like they'll slip from between my lips and float off into the sky without ever landing on the ears I wish they would. There have been too many times the words I speak aren't the words you hear.

Other times everything that spills from my mouth is lead-heavy and falls to the pavement below. Just stays there. This might be because I can't look people in the eyes. And that might be because I look away every time things fall apart around me.

Everything has been in some state of disarray for so long, I'm not sure what the words whole and complete really mean. I keep thinking I find the definitions written in dust, but the winds always blow the wrong way. I swear I hear them laugh every time.

All this will sound like the ravings of a lunatic to most. Some will get it. Some will know how it feels to be driving down the highway at 65mph wishing you weren't the only one in the car singing like a madman to your favorite tunes.  Some will know the feeling of an empty bar-stool next to you. How the curves of a bottle are the most familiar.

A friend asked me a few days ago, "Where do you want to be?" I didn't know how to answer. There are places I want to be that I don't think I'll ever see. There are places I want to be that I only get a taste of.

The space between words. That moment where I breathe and everything becomes still. Peaceful. The portion of the Lacrimosa dies illa in Mozart's requiem where that one angelic voice rises above the rest of the chorus as Mozart's last breath rolls forward from the composition. The space between light and dark of Caravaggio's work. That's where I want to be.