A NEW POETIC LICENSE FOR SILENT BEAT BOOMER

blowing his own horn

Thank you to the 81 people who looked in today. I guess I must accept I'm a poet first and foremost. Look at the record. In April this year, my poem "Legacy" was accepted by Washington State poet laureate Tod Marshall for the anthology WA129. In September two of my poems were accepted for publication in Aberration Labyrinth. In October another poem was accepted for inclusion in Portland's Work Literary Magazine, and the Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal is still holding another poem for a "possible" future issue. All this while I'm waiting for someone to accept one of my novels for publication. Today, inspired by the movie Paterson and the poetry of Ron Padgett included in the movie to try a completely new approach to writing poetry, I tore off rough drafts for a couple of new poems. I feel rejuvenated to write poetry in a new way for me. We'll see if inspiration continues. By the way, if you're a poet at heart, watch that movie. It's a paean to poetry by Jim Jarmusch.

FAILURE AND SUCCESS TOGETHER ... BUMMER

Despair about my inability to sleep and consequent exhaustion has finally driven me to seek counseling. First meeting on the 10th of month. I live every moment of my life in a sort of daze, a trance. I feel so dizzy at times that I make mistakes in medicine, and I can't carry on reliable conversations with my care givers. Last week, I asked Mertie talk to one of the KP nurses for me so that good information would be transmitted. I dread bedtime approaching. I seem to have no emotional resources with which to meet my painful existence. I'm quite a wimp.

In the midst of all this confusion and despair, Jessica Gleason, editor at online journal Aberration Labyrinth, accepted two of my poems for publication. They were written in what I think of as my Cannon Street period, quite different from the poetry that came out of my time at Eastern Washington University as I was escaping my addiction to alcohol. The journal fits quite nicely the poetry I was writing at that time. I like the poets I find myself among on the journal's pages. I'm too tired to feel much pleasure.