2014 sneaks up on you

It’s been a while since my last post. Lots going on.

I have a new Facebook page – https://www.facebook.com/wayne.miller.3532507

I co-manage social media for the Red Wheelbarrow poetry group in Rutherford – https://www.facebook.com/RWBPoets, http://redwheelbarrowpoets.wordpress.com/, https://twitter.com/rwbpoets, http://www.youtube.com/rwbpoets

I’m taking poetry classes at the Hudson Valley Writer’s Center, and writing two poems a week – http://writerscenter.org/

I attend slams and open mics with the Suffern Poetry group – https://www.facebook.com/suffernpoetry

I’ve had a few poems published this year, and one short story (details on my Facebook timeline).

When I have a sufficient number of poems published, I want to create a chapbook and enter it into contests. I already have ideas for themes, designs, and photos.

I want to someday finish writing the short story that I keep picking up and putting down.

And, lastly, the Stone Soup Poetry video of my feature was eventually shown on cable in both Lowell and Cambridge. I have the video files and may do something with them.

Stone Soup Poetry reading

My last post was more than seven months ago. A lot has happened in my writing life since then, including publications, classes, workshops, slam judging, open mics, writing (of course), and twice standing on a street during a festival for three hours with other poets, surrounded by chalk sidewalk drawings and poems, reading poetry to interested passersbys.

I’m on the road now, so this will be a short update, but I’m planning a longer post once I get home.

On July 29th, I was the featured poet at Stone Soup Poetry in Cambridge, MA. I’ll write more about them later, but I had a great time and I was honored to become a part of their very long history.

I read several poems previously posted on this blog, as well as some new work. Most of the time, though, I was in the audience, enjoying a very wide variety of talent.

Each Monday evening’s session is taped, edited, and shown on two different local cable networks, each also simultaneously available on the web. The July 29th session was shown last night (8/21), and should be should be on again Friday 8/23 at 10pm on the Lowell, MA cable network, channel 8 – http://ltc.org/content/ltc-8. It will also hopefully be shown on the Cambridge, MA cable network on the same night (8/23) at 11:59pm, channel 8 – http://www.cctvcambridge.org/.

I say ‘should’ and ‘hopefully’ because the 7/29 session was supposed to be shown two weeks ago but was preempted, and last week’s show was from the 8/5 session.

More later…

Under The Rock

Rock_2

There is nothing under the rock
Empty

Just some dust

Synthesized in a supernova crushing a cloud of gas into a new star
Five billion years ago

Fossilized shell remnants from a nautilus
Five hundred million years ago

Flakes cleaved off of a boulder when a pebble hit it during a hurricane
Fifty million years ago

Gastroliths from a crocodile eating nearby
Five million years ago

Colored pebbles gathered by a bowerbird displaying for a mate
Five hundred thousand years ago

Hills ground down from the ice covering the continent
Fifty thousand years ago

Grime dropped from a shoe of a man hunting antelope
Five thousand years ago

Ashes from a fire the wounded men danced around
Five hundred years ago

Coal from a steam train passing nearby
Fifty years ago

Construction debris from building new condominiums
Five years ago

Carpet sweepings from an unhappy home
Five months ago

Smoke from birthday candles for a one hundred year old woman
Five days ago

Sand placed by ants excavating their nest underneath
Five seconds ago

Just look

See

Nothing there

Empty

Just some dust
Under the rock

  

  
(Under The Rock has been accepted by Turtle Island Quarterly for publication)

Wrap Her Voice

Rolled blanket

Up on the stage, she slowly waves her hands over her head
Her ethereal song lifting all those around her
Singing as an angel
An ancient spirit is upon her

Afterwards, the techs wrap her voice
In a large blanket rolled around and around
To tightly fit roadie case #15
For transport to the next venue

Unpacked fifteen minutes before climbing onto the arena stage
She tests her voice and prepares for her call

He said that they should not silence her melody
Her sound should flow as freely as the wind
So she can answer the birds outside
And sing to her children

He begged her to think about her sacrifices
He reminded her that her voice is owned by her and not by her manager

She glanced at him, and he knew, more than if she spoke a thousand words
Her dream and her destiny

On the stage, she looks at him standing in the front row as she sings of love
He looks back, mouthing his response
And she slowly smiles, as a woman, as an angel, as a star

Pastry café

cafe_food_3

Saturday morning
Round white tables
Comfortable seats
Near the window
Almond croissant and coffee
Talk about our day
Touch your hand
College students at the next table
Local couple behind us
Pastry chef kneading dough
Counter workers filling orders
Take home a sandwich for lunch
Biscotti for tonight
Elephant ears for the kids
Fruit tarts for tomorrow’s dinner
Napoleon for the car
Cookies for whenever
Macarons for the holidays
All the colors
Stop by the farmer’s market
Then the library
Saturday afternoon
And be with you in the evening

Echoes of the Unsaid

Universe

 
A universe’s heart and edge
Move apart at the speed of time
In an endless solitary journey

The lonely center
Pulses outward, outward
Rhythmically

Sending yearning needs
Focused by a knotted vacuum
Towards a too distant past

Always curving
But never crossing
Its Möbius boundary

Endlessly straining to listen for
An answer from beyond
And to respond in turn

But silence
Is what remains after the sound fades away
And one still listens, listens

For a message
That can never be heard
Beyond the expanding unity

Of the one
Craving another
On the shadow side

The lonely center
Pulses outward, outward
Rhythmically

Forever, sadly,
Hearing only
The echoes of the unsaid
 

Four Friends

dead_tree

 
My leaves are dropping after the Summer solstice
I’m hungry
The Sun was too generous with his gifts
I had no place to put them
No way to take them
No way to thank him

My roots are shriveling after the Fall solstice
I’m thirsty
The Earth had blown her topsoil away
Left me alone with my dreams
No way to ask her
No way to tell her

My bark is falling after the Winter solstice
I’m cold
The Moon visited sometimes
Other times it was dark and I had no dreams
No way to wave at it
No way to love it

My branches are breaking after the Spring solstice
I’m dying
The Farmer looked at me each day
I gave him many apples since he was a seedling
No way to feed him
No way to touch him