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Many thanks to Michael Lee Johnson, who has posted a new interview with me on Interviews Poets, Writers.  Check it out.

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While I was gone to visit my family in Joplin, MO,

I had two poems, “There’s “nothing new under the sun,” and Rail fanning,” published in Rusty Truck

Val made sure our poems from 16 poets came up correctly on The Dead Mule

and

I had a poetry reading in Joplin.

Featured Poet

Popcorn and Poetry

Dining Room

Foxberry Terrace

4316 N. St Louis Avenue

Webb City, MO 64870

Friday, August 3, 2012 2:30 pm

Now we’re back.  Do poets ever rest?  🙂

I have four new poems in Thunder Sandwich #27, thanks to editor Jim Chandler.

Other poems in this issue are by Dead Mule poets Carter Monroe, Harry Calhoun, and Cousin Curtis Dunlap.

My poem, ” Part of the cross,” was published in Clementine Issue 5.

Thanks to editor Jeffery Berg.

I have a poem, “Knowing poetry is everywhere,” and an interview in the May (Flower Issue) of Flutter Poetry Journal.  Thanks to editor Sandy Benitez.

I have a new poem, “Captured Moment,” in the May issue of THRUSH.  Thanks to editor, Helen Vitoria.

The new issue of Pirene’s Fountain contains a feature article and interview with poet Scott Owens, along with several of his poems and a poem of mine, “Mustard Seed, that is really a review of Scott’s book Something Knows the  Moment, available from Main Street Rag.

Read the entire issue.

Many thanks to Justin Evans, editor of Hobble Creek Review, for nominating my poem, “Poetry As Sloe Gin,” for a 2012 Pushcart Prize.

American Flag Icon Royalty Free Stock Vector Art Illustration

Similes about fountains
and just who bought the fireworks
don’t really matter. But I refuse
to rename our parents
with names we didn’t use
or to pretend patriotism was our goal,
above family.

Mummy’s potato salad—
always requested & always made
in Paw’s old Tom & Jerry bowl—
became an important part of our Family 4th.
We all gathered at Michael’s about three,
so our kids could get in the pool.
The pool was a stock tank bought by our parents.

Of course, we had a cookout:
hamburgers, hot dogs, watermelon,
the works.  Someone always prayed before
we ate. And we were silently thankful
we were a family together.
No one mentioned independence,

but sometimes we relived family memories
like wearing Indian shoes, while pounding
crazy hammers overloaded with caps
& having to wait for Daddy to retrieve
multi-colored feather-tops from the roof,
after work.

Often there was a rain delay.
We waited forever for dark every year—
chatting & laughing—
before we decided which kids
were old enough to be trusted
with matches and punk.

published in The Broad River Review

I am the featured poet today on “Poetry Friday” a weekly feature on Women’s Voices For Change: Redefining Life After 40 Read a couple of my poems from Seriously Dangerous and hear a video of an older poem, “The Eagle at Sunset,”  that was included in Literary Trails of the North Carolina Piedmont.  Then peruse the magazine’s contents and archives for other interesting articles.

Many thanks to Laura Sillerman for requesting these poems.

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