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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Wednesday, September 12, 2012

In Chicago, not at Home

There is no sense of home for me here
and I'm not even there anymore
except for now in my memory
as I wind through the streets
going from here to there
in the Green Mill
underground downtown
waiting for my love around the corner

The sense of home comes to each of us at birth
otherwise we are tumbling
through the waves of an electrified field
we are unfamiliar with
imprinted on us at the moment of conception
or perhaps the moment of our birth
or learning to sail through it as we grow
and from then on it is everything

This reminder came to me listening to Metheny
ask if I was going with him
and for that moment I was
standing on a train platform
heading for a studio downtown
to record a commercial for a furniture store
inconceivable to me now
that I would follow him into the city

But there is the power of music
the piper pulls you through another life
just listening to a melody or a beat
that passed through your world
a long time ago in another life
and suddenly you are transported
into the sights and feelings
the pain of not being at home where you are

But I can pull myself away now
and I'm back in the Black Hills
surrounded by my magnetic field
so comfortable and warm
and hearing another city move through my mind
I move back and forth
swaying between home and hurt
the pain of a city where love went away

Copyright (c) 2012 by Barry G. Wick
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