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 5, 2016

Through These Nights

Visions from last night
frighten the possibilities away
in this night
as sleep crawls into an orchestral blast
designed to keep someone awake
from a radio

Thumbs rub against each other
while fingers select something useless
to communicate to nobody

There were no knocks on the door
No mysterious lovers came to visit
from behind their veils
Many were imagined
here to pass hours whispering
while a lonely candle flickered

Secret longings were discovered
though none were written
or translated into foreign languages
just for the surprised look
on the faces of those going through
these papers

les désirs secrets les plus intimes
en nommant les images
qui traversent l'esprit
sur des pistes en acier
qui gardent ce grand désespoir
avancer de jour en jour”

(“the most intimate secret desires
naming images
that cross the mind
on steel tracks
that keep this great despair
advancing day by day”)

this is the connection
between two
who don't exist

Only one is here
to find something to pick
from teeth after a meal
made from unfinished projects
empty bottles of medicine
and a canyon of quiet
in a small house
with no echo

Barry G. Wick

(The French quotation is not a quotation from any French poetic source. It is a translation of the following stanza using Google Translate. It is designed to make this poet seem multilingual, intellectual, and academic despite four years of French.)

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