Patron

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 work...like 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: rikwrybac@yahoo.com via Paypal. I thank those who support me one way or another.

THANK YOU!

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)yahoo.com

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Sunday, March 13, 2016

In Hiding: the depths


If I say I am deep. I am not.
If I say I am shallow. I am not.
If I say I am living on the surface.
You must ask: “What surface?”

The grain of a plank of wood
is as deep as you need it to be
the closer you are to it.

Here is Ezra Pound's death mask
with such a peaceful look;
a depth of peace he did not have
during his life of pain and poetry.
It is not his face.
It is a positive of the plaster
with which they covered the skin
that was his face that was the poet.
Soon all poets will be created
in three dimensions carved
for the world to see
in 10,000 years, if poetry lasts.
Even the poetry will not fill the gaps
of what is not seen
just as wood grain
is a grand canyon in its own scale.


Barry G. Wick
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