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.

###

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

Making of a Memoir

A while back I was fortunate enough to have a short piece of creative nonfiction, "Goodbye, Batman," published in 2015 in an issue of Memoirabilia, a magazine dedicated to, yes, the memoir. The piece was an extension of some nostalgic writing I had been doing, and it felt good to firm it up into a standalone piece. Since then the magazine has gone virtual and opened to include articles on the craft.

I submitted a piece on my approach to writing my first memoir. It was well received, and I was asked to record it for a new podcast on the site. Part 1 discusses my thoughts on memoir, while part 2 talks more about my systematic approach to my mss.

Part one can be found here.

Sustenance

A new poem of mine, "Sustenance," is up over at Thrush Poetry Journal.

You can find it here.

If you like it, shoot them a message and let them know.

Cheers!
Michael

Like This

Living is hard. Parenting is harder. Good parenting? Well, we do what we can.

A short piece of near patio reality published in the 50th issue of The Legendary.

Aqueous Recognition

Dear World,

A while back I was reading The Winter Road, a collection of poems by Louis Jenkins. Jenkins is the Poet Laureate of Duluth, MN. His work resonates with the energy of the that place. It is a quiet, contemplative energy akin to that of St. Paul. I decided to write a poem I sometimes refer to as a walkthrough. Like its video game counterpart, my walkthroughs are pieces that try to paint a snapshot or encapsulate the artist or his/her work.

Aqueous Magazine published my poem, "After the Fair," in its recent issue. It is a beautiful, full-color issue available in fine shops in the Lake Superior area. I'm proud to be a part of it.

Pairs well with Mr. Ackerman I think.

Until later, be well.

Michael

River Poem

Still catching up posting old published works. This one from January of 2013 published over at Jellyfish Whispers.

River Poem

Dissecting Blackbirds

At the intersection of biology and literature - my piece, "Dissecting Blackbirds," published over at Marco Crestani's blog for Priamo. Happy Friday.

http://www.priamoedit.it/blog/item/159-dissecting-blackbirds.html

Hindsight is 100X100

It was summer, 2012, and I was feeling nostalgic. In a recent visit to my parents, I went through a box of old photos. Many were distant relatives I'd never met. Strong jaws and horses and cars that were still made out of metal. Toward the bottom I found some of me as a child. There was one of me as a teenager. The picture was faded, but there I was standing there, the whole world ahead of me, the future, too, looking back and wanting to tell me things I'd never hear but would one day come to know.

I decided to submit it to a contest held by Marco Polo Arts Magazine. It ended up getting chosen as one of the winners. Go nostalgia.

You can find it here: "Hindsight"

Low and Stoned

Happy to be a part of the Summer 2014 issue of this journal. I like Ricci's earnest and forthright effort to bring words the people for growth, strength, and insight.

I wrote this piece back in December when I was feeling old and depressed. Funny that I should feel better then down again, but hopeful at the time of its publishing. Timing is everything.

The piece is entitled "Getting Low." If you enjoy this, or any of the fine pieces in this issue, I encourage you to reach out and let the editor know. They like to hear that folks like what they're getting.

www.stonepathreview.org

Cheers,
m.

P.S. "Ahm gettin' bettah."

Choices

Here is another one about a friend I had back in high school. He was odd. He was cosmic. He was beautiful. And he scared the shit out of me. His girlfriend wasn't this hot, but he did dance like this, only with words.

 

A Tale of Twin Cities

The spring sun and air always finds me looking at my chosen home anew. Walks around the lakes, great artist communities, and of course any kind of bar you could want.

But it was in the fall that local poet extraordinaire and friend, Alex Stolis and I created our dedication to the Twin Cities, with the help of Fowlpox Press.



"A Tale of Twin Cities"

It's free.

You won't find Alex on Facebook. Chances are he's spending all that extra time writing really good words.

You can find some of them here.

Three Home Brews and a Guest Tap

Matthew Guerruckey is the Editor-in-Chief of a cool journal, Drunk Monkeys. Here you will find a delectable poo poo platter of fiction, poetry, TV recaps, film reviews, and essays. Happy to see Matthew has just also assumed the role of Managing Editor at Marginalia Publishing.

He was also kind enough to publish three home brews of mine back in 2012.

You can find them here.

But more importantly, a fine writer and friend, Aaron D. Wiegert is published here. Okay, not only is he published here, his poem, "The Taste of Kerosene" is listed as one of the "best and most popular posts in the history of our site." Bam!

I'm proud of you, my friend.

Peace out.

Middle Age is a Town in Minnesota

Photo by Ron Reiring

"Middle-Age: Population 13,000"

  

Published in print only.

 

I'll send you the piece if you guess which town it was written about/in.

Failing at Fire

Man, the stuff my brain must be smoking sometimes.

Here's a strange attempt at some kind of post-modern, meta, self-referential...hell, I don't know what it is. I'll tell you what it is, it is what happens when I have too many beers and read Italo Calvino. That's what it is.

Aptly titled "Prometheus Fails", and you can find it at Midwest Coast Review.