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, May 12, 2016

Midnight in Iowa: for our military men and women overseas

I'm thinking of him
halfway around the world
a new friend
who is where he is
in a job that is what it is

I'm headed for bed
and I don't know
when he works
or when he sleeps
not that it matters

Men like him are there
doing jobs we don't
we pretend we don't
remember them
on days that we do

Bonsoir good knight 
on rough paths
on ground not ours
who dreams of sleep
in peaceful Iowa

Barry G. Wick  (((It turns out the original person to whom this poem was dedicated is not a real person and an attempted scam was tried on was also a case of stolen valor and photos of a highly decorated Army soldier who wasn't real in so far as the person behind the pictures wasn't real.  He'd stolen the pictures and was pretending to be a decorated military man.  Ah, even in the age of the Internet, even the hard cases, like me, can be briefly taken in.  But I'm leaving the poem to stand for our military people overseas...who are in danger every day.  I honor them as they are as real as it gets.)))

May 2016
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