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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Thursday, December 24, 2015


Some memories
take so long to fade
They are made of people
who have passed through
my life
or gave it to me

I want them all with me
around some live tree
covered in lights
still attached
to its roots
much as I am
to the people
who were mine

Please help me celebrate

Your darkness must
become the light
my life once had
after many years
filled with grief

too many lost
to age or sickness

Oh glorious light
push away the darkness
make a wall
that gradually expands
enough for breath
to reach my lungs
while they draw
their life into me

I am ready to smile
despite every ache
and darkest memory
which colors its black
beyond the lines
I was told to stay within

Come my friends
come to me again
if only
in a dream's reflection
your smiles
mirrored on Christmas
that sees everything now
with a library of strands
that hang into this future
when I can see
the wisdom of tinsel

Barry G. Wick

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