A DIRTY MIND

It's been months since I last checked in. My genetic clock still ticks down, and I continue to send out work for consideration after doing a tuck here and there. I've been concentrating more on fiction and less on poetry even though poetry continues to be my strongest suit, according to the editors at the helm of literary magazines. I fear my age is reflected in the short stories, and I think young editors fail to realize there might be a market among seniors for stories based in the not to distant past.  

A surprise arrived in the mail, a royalty check, pictured above, from my publisher, AuthorHouse. Someone bought a poetry book or two from them. Thank you, my anonymous supporter(s). I hope one of the books, Gray House By Cold Mountain, did not shock and/or the other one based on my MFA thesis, Tenderfoot, demonstrated what I am capable of in a more serious mood. I believe in the first book as it demonstrates more authenticity than the second. Yes, I have a dirty mind as do the minds of most serious writers. 

LOTS OF WORK, LOTS AND LOTS

Jeez, Louise, 82 people looked in this morning. Thank you folks. Been awhile, I know, but I've been hard at work. Spent three days straightening out the file cards I keep on all my poetry. Things were in a mess, and I found I was sending out poems I'd self-published in my two poetry books, Gray House By Cold Mountain and Tenderfoot [available Amazon or AuthorHouse]. That's a no-no in the publishing world, even though the readership of those books is extremely small.

Just finished a few minutes ago writing another short story I love to pieces called "Lennie". I'm also rewriting the poetry ms about my prostate cancer, You Wake One Morning, Remembering. I'm altering it from second person singular to first person and it will have a new undecided title. The reason I began it second person was some sort of shame or shyness about using first person. Don't ask me why. I don't understand it myself. After all, it's my cancer, my dealing with it, the humor I find in my dealing with it. In fact, I wonder if it's not too humorous in places while in other places showing too much self-pity. It's a complicated book, unlike any other cancer poetry I've read. Lot's of references to movies and personalities in the news of my days.

OLD BEATNIK POET FINDS HOME FOR POEM

Been more than a week since last entry, but we've had a crisis in wife's family so my writing schedule has, of course, been set aside. I did rewrite another chapter of Ghoul World Tuesday after our return from Spokane on Monday. Will hopefully rewrite another chapter today. 

Washington State Poet Laureate Tod Marshall has undertaken putting together an anthology of living Washington State poets to celebrate our state's 129th year of statehood. I'm thrilled to be included in the anthology.  Washington 129 will feature the poetry of 129 poets living in the state of Washington, and my poem "Legacy" will be included in the hard copy issue. It will also be turned into a handbill to be circulated at various literary events around the state. I look forward to seeing my name in the anthology among the many fine poets of Washington State, and I'm sure to recognize the names of old friends and acquaintances in the collection. As I learn more I'll let you know where you can purchase the anthology when it's published. Sage Hill Press will be the publisher. My poetry can be found at Amazon or Authorhouse. You can even find Gray House By Cold Mountain at Amazon for the low price of $2,498.00 through RedGooseMedia. Seriously. I think it's worth that at least. 

I forked over $765 to take a screen writing course at NW Film Center that begins in April. Since it's almost impossible to find agents for film scripts, the expenditure is just to keep my brain on its toes. I did write a sci fi film script two summers ago, and I thought I might have an inclination for writing scripts. We'll see. I'm going to work on that script for course work.

POET, SILENT BOOMER AT GALLERY 360 IN VANCOUVER

Putting on my poet hat in 16 days. On Saturday, June 20th, from noon to 3, I [and several other writers] will be at Gallery 360, right next to the Farmer's Market, hopefully selling one or two of my books of poetry, during the book fair put together by Peggy Bird. Thank you, Peggy Bird. Come down, sample a locally grown tomato and pick up a book from any of the writers at the fair. Click on Gallery 360, above, and the complete list of participating writers is there, down the page a little ways. 

My books will be in two piles. Gray House By Cold Mountain will be marked "MUST BE 21". It's sexually explicit in the latter half. The other, Tenderfoot, is a collection of my poetry from my thesis that found their way into print here and there through the years.

Today was a frustrating novel day. I discovered I'd lost all the work I'd done on Wednesday and, after 4 hours of slogging away, I was right back where I finished on Wednesday. I lost some pretty good writing too.

THE SILENT BOOMER BEATS HIS WAY THROUGH "THE PORN WRITER"

Found photo here

Not much to say from this rabbit, except that I'm dashing my way through The Porn Writer and am already, in two weeks, 16 chapters into the rewrite. So far, I'm not disappointed by what I wrote and find this novel as authentic as my poetry in Gray House By Cold Mountain. Don't know if modern people still have the sexual hangups those in my generation had. I know, so far, every word in The Porn Writer is true to what I felt, thought and did in those times. Confused and bombarded at every hand by every headline, book and magazine, movie and words of others, I was having a very hard time of it. Don't know if the ending will be upbeat or whether it will allow my protagonist, Frank, to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Or if that light will be the headlight of a freight train. 

I've got five queries out to agents for Ghoul World but am wandering if the title is quite what it ought to be?  

HENRY MILLER, STEP ASIDE. HERE COMES THE BEATNIK BOOMER

Can't tell you how much this 77 year old writer is enjoying the rewriting of his novel, The Porn Writer, once known as The Porno Writer. I wrote the novel when I lived on Cannon Street in Spokane, Washington. That period in my life was when I also wrote all the poetry that is now included in Gray House By Cold Mountain which is probably the most authentic poetry I've ever written. So far, I've already rewritten 11 chapters, nearly 100 pages, in a week and a half of work. Everything about this novel thrills me and carries me forward. I'm excited to rediscover all I put into it. For some damn, probably fearful, reason, I put the novel aside, finished but discarded for some reason. As I slowly rediscover this novel, I'm excited at how it deals with the many issues I faced in my own recovery from alcoholism and also worked through my issues with women. The style and subject matter is a shocker for the timid, but how else can the timid, as I was timid, deal with sexual matters except by exploring them unabashedly and forthrightly? 

THE SILENT BOOMER READS ALOUD!

Two sketches of Carl in Mobile Alabama

I moved forward another step in my goal tonight of pulling myself out of obscurity and cowardice, reading four poems from my self-published books at an open mic event on St. John's Road, hosted by newly appointed Clark County Poet Laureate Christopher Luna at Cover To Cover bookstore. Full house. Many readers and many good readers too. One young man, Matthew gave a spirited reading that entertained everyone. His first reading. 

I felt good about my performance and the poems I read. Let me repeat that the names of my two poetry books are Tenderfoot and Gray House By Cold Mountain and both are at Amazon.com or Authorhouse. I also summoned the courage to leave a packet of my two books, with a promotional letter and Silent Boomer business card in the afternoon at Cover To Cover books. Progress. First poem I read tonight follows:

EXPLORATION BY CANOE

The savages had left them.

By accident, by searching, hidden
in bushes, we found them—
canoes of animal skin.
Where water was stillest, we pushed in,
then worked out where it ran swiftest.
Someone had lost our maps—
by a not knowing, we got along.

This river we've not seen the end of

empties to a sea we've not tested,
a sea horizon we must think beyond—
over its edge another place to go or,
up, an endless black the stars gleam through
like small hopes we feel inside of us that say, 
Yes. Our boats are working out a long journey.
From this river, the sea's imagination away
and beyond that the endless black or…
over the edge in our animal skin canoes!

Thanks for reading!

THE SILENT BOOMER IN THE VANCOUVER VECTOR

Han-shan

Today the 2nd issue of the monthly, The Vancouver Vector, appeared on the newsstands and in the coffee shops of Vancouver, WA. On page 19, two poems from my book, Gray House By Cold Mountain, appeared (thank you Sara Newton). The book is available at Amazon.com as is the book of poems based on my MFA thesis of long ago called Tenderfoot. 

The poetry books may be found at:

The poems in The Vector for reasons of space have been broken into shorter lines than the 8 line form of the originals which take after the poetry of the legendary Han-shan (i.e. Cold Mountain) associated historically with the Tang Dynasty. 

The psychic intensity for poetry seems to escape me these days which is part of the reason I have crossed the imaginary border into the world of prose. Of course, prose also requires intensity to develop its rhythms. Somewhat crippled, I continue on. It's not as bad as I make it sound, but I enjoy the fact I now have a varicose right leg (I think of it as having one foot in the grave) and need hearing aids, and I have no idea why exactly that tickles me.