Hem

Got my hands on one of my favorite short story collections the other day, I Hate to See That Evening Sun Go Down by William Gay. Gay's work struck a chord with me immediately  years back and not just because he is from my home state of Tennessee. He is from Hohenwald, which was backwoods even to us kids living in Kingston Springs (pop. 2,756, but under 2K when I lived there). We knew one road at the bottom of the snake curves that would take you there. That's what they said. Mostly we just pointed at the road and laughed, barreling our way out of town toward the neon bliss of Nashville.

I've still never been, but feel the need to go, now that I appreciate what that soil can produce. Gay's work conjures up that foregone road, where it led, where it bottomed out. He died in 2012. Now it feels like I should make a pilgrimage.

Until then, I offer up this poem, kindly published in Fried Chicken and Coffee, a blogazine of "on-off rants, rural, working class and Appalachian concerns." It's curator and excellent writer, Rusty Barnes, does a great job with it. Thanks, Rusty.

You can read my poem dedicated to William Gay here.

Some Qs and As

Viga over at Vianvi asked some writers about their habits and opinions on the writing process. I was happy to oblige.

Check the "Let's Talk Writing" section of her site.

You can find my responses here.

Cheers.

These Things Happen

Taking the train to work every day, I get to see the same scenery, but different moments every day. The same tree changes depending on mood, memory, and circumstance. A woman's face is one day forgettable, the next - haunting. Sometimes there comes a moment - I won't call it a satori or even an epiphany - where the right image strikes me at the right time in the right way and something is born.

Wrote this on that train at the intersection of nostalgia, literature, and life...and along the Blue Line at Cedar-Riverside.

Marco Crestani was kind enough to publish it on his blog, Priamo.

You can read my piece here.

Cheers. Be well.

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Eye Flick

Some moves are big. You got yr haymakers and Superman punches. Some are middlin' with yr right cross and roundhouses.

This isn't any of those.

The End (Choose July 5).

m.

Round 'Em Up!

So, like, I once wrote this prose poem, see...and, well, I called it "Latitude." I don't know why. But I did. I really did. I submitted it to like this literary journal called "Round Up Zine." And, well, they liked it and published it. Cool.

"Latitude"

(p. 16)

Re-reading it now, I realize that it is actually a homage to the poetry of Alex Stolis.

A Rat's Ass

My poem, "Guardian Angel" was published over at Rat's Ass Review in April of last year. Damn, I'm behind updating this blog.

"Guardian Angel"

Cold Front in June

Happy to report that my very personal piece, "Cold Front," was the winner of Purple Pumpking Publishing's monthly short story contest for June of 2015. The piece focuses on my very real struggle with depression in the winter and the time my son pulled me through.

"Cold Front"

Cheers,
Michael