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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Saturday, May 25, 2013

Upset about links

I'm very upset that some of my poems now have links on certain words.  I didn't put them there.  And I didn't approve of them.  They were there on 5/26/13...and are gone today in my poem "I Dreamed of Carl."  I agreed to have ads on my page because I know these blogs are free.  But I didn't agree to have links in my posts.

The Day of the Leaves

It's been an unusual spring
colder than some
heavy snow
long days of rain
and here today
I look out the window
as if I've never seen this before

in every view
from where I'm
locked with mother all day

she still in bed
and yet I sit here
in my own time now
before I must attend her
the bloom of the crabapple
every bush and tree
as they seem to have pushed
leaves into my face today

the warmth of this spring day
an eraser of everything before
of everything that troubles me
of fears and worries for tomorrow

certainly an oxymoron
but here goes


It's plural I know
but there are so many
I cannot see them all
and some hide behind others
from me
as if embarrassed
they were late to my party

Copyright © 2013 by Barry G. Wick