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

Saturday, May 26, 2012

The Green Nurse

The light is limited
by clouds and rain
bright green spring
stands between the hill
and me
across the creek

only last week
clouds of pollen
obscured the view
from where I sit
most every day

I've been in pain
for several days
from a back
the twists me
like a private earthquake
so I seek comfort
in this view today
from this damp nurse
of leaves that fills
the emptiness
I saw all winter

He doesn't take my temperature
or cuff my arm
nor feel my head
and change the sheets
instead his comfort
leaps into my eyes
to fill me with desire
to take the first steps
to wish myself better

The colors of this season
sit near me
in green attire
to pull me through
another day
to hold my hand
and say
“There, there. It'll be alright.”

Copyright (c) 2012 by Barry G. Wick

Sunday, May 6, 2012

The Empty Life

I've been wondering all my days
why I haven't found you
and why the ones I find
are always wrong for me
in some overt or secret way

You're always with me
I always know you're there
but every street is empty
when I check on every face
and look through passing hearts

Did I forget the time I sensed
you nearly touched my hand
or driving down an empty road
you head-on drove towards me
and my headlights gave you form

And when I talk with others
I always wonder if I've found
your voice that's heard inside
the emptiness I've come to know
sweet music in each word

With verdant flowers of spring
I've decorated our painful lives
because I know you feel the same
the emptiness of rising daylight
half dark half light half life

I'll keep my vigil though this hour
searching through every minute
for you I've never found
and send my every thought
my deepest love for you

Copyright © 2012 by Barry G. Wick