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)

Follow by Email

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

How Rude the Eagle

A blue sky above

a yellow checked tablecloth

where Mother sits to face the creek

for breakfast


a bald eagle makes circles

above the eastern slope

of Norris Peak

when the sun is right

we see the flash of white

from its tail and head

first several circles one way

then several in the opposite direction

a quick turn away to the north

to seek some other space

where it can't be seen

by an old woman in her wheelchair

and her son who nears 60

who both dream of such freedom

she from her age and many infirmities

and me from daily chores

that make the knee and back

feel like they've broken

when mother asks if the eagle

would like to use her handkerchief

and have a piece of her granola bar

And all I can think about is a snot-nosed

American bald eagle

about to munch on a whitetail carcass

and needing to wipe it's bloody beak

on mother's handkerchief

No Quaker Oats granola bars for thee or me

The nerve of that bird

when it's got all those flags

that flap in the breeze

just ready for eagle boogers

red white and blue

Copyright © 2011 by Barry G. Wick

Post a Comment