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

Follow by Email

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Evidence of Simplicity


My awakening this morning
more cloudy than usual
Little habits move quickly
though the day's beginnings
This pill with that water
That button on this screen

I learn this day's anniversaries
the tiny celebrations
that make some people
smile or cry
then the first food
with the second pills

Reaching for a pen
logging this day's first news
putting a brace on the left wrist
as surveys of a work area
look for changes
mice spiders or ghosts made

Plans for simple tasks
where to go and how
when to move the now
The mail will be there
it's not going away
like my going to get it

This push through air
the unseen clouds of Iowa
move out of my way
only to discover
I am just a branch
moved sideways in a breeze


Barry G. Wick



Post a Comment