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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Friday, February 15, 2013

Another Storm Brings Dorothy

On this day
with its yellow brick sun
as it hides between
the puffy munchkin clouds
and behind the dark emerald hills

the white fliers
crystalline witches
on holly broom sticks
in a swarm that clothes the air
in this chill accompanied
by swirls and sudden shifts
of these lifeless crones
as they attack the old
on sidewalks and doorsteps
Upset trees wave their arms
in warning

Evil billions pile their magic
on the edges of sinless water
afraid of its goodness
though many are doused
as if melted by a pail
of trout-tossed water

The stored spring melt
flows in toto
passed the stones that scream
in this monkey-tail canyon
through torches of light
between winter and spring

This house falls
on its faceless occupants
who wear home bound slippers
their feet curling back
under striped blankets
with courage to keep
hearts warm
and brains from boredom

a snowy day
in the Black Hills

Copyright © 2013 by Barry G. Wick All rights reserved.