I now have one regular patron who sends a monthly contribution to keep this poet alive. Yes, per usual, I'm a poor poet...and for some reason I'm a poor poet in its many meanings...but someone like my patron loves my work. If you become a sustaining patron I can guarantee you'll see writing from me on a regular basis. I do edit my mad. But I don't always hit it out of the park. At least my patrons have a chance to select from all my work...and they become the editors rather than the small-minded who often edit magazines and journals. Poet James Wright,one of his last books, held by two editors for the longest time that his wife Anne took to another publisher who snapped it up and it became a huge success. Now I don't have people like Robert Bly, Don Hall, or their equals I can send my poems to for a review before I put them on the internet or send to any publisher. I believe in opening up my "horde" for the world to critique or love. And it's expensive to send out my work, getting only rejection, so it's money I don't have for food, or the electric bill. Please send what you can via my email: via Paypal. I thank those who support me one way or another.


Thank you to those who have contributed via Paypal to support my writing. My account at Paypal is the same as my email: rikwrybac(at)

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Thursday, June 24, 2010

The Crimes of Spring

wind-played green
as breezes
sparkle the leaves after rain
in early sun the morning bright
tired eyes dazzled in it
typing this green that green
every green
fresh green
sun green
shadow green
green on flowing water
boiling through green yards
of tall grass
fast green too fast to mow
green creeping though chain links
green hiding and playing in new dawn
silly green joking green
and as the morning breeze calms
a serious green ready to work
green rolling up its sleeves
chopping up the sun
butcher of light
bloody green
knife and fork green
two-fisted green
eating up the bright
in great mouthfuls
dripping down the chin
of stuffed leaves
fat leaves
greedy green leaves
splitting the pants branches
spitting its buttons
across the yard green
It is the rich summer
of green stuffed wallets
stalks of green
shocks of green
frightening green
it's masked robbery
of everything in the sky
the steel leaf at my eye
green hammer cocked
green bullets spraying everywhere
ducking for cover in the green
and wiping the green sweat off my brow
surviving this criminal spring
this cool calculated green spring

Barry G. Wick

(MP3 of Barry G. Wick reading this poem)

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