Poetry, Market Books & Shakes

First thing first: I just want to go on record as saying that I'm not overly impressed with the milkshakes at Steak 'N Shake. I've tried a few now, and while they're better than the ones from Arby's, so is everyone else's.

My fave shakes come from UDF (United Dairy Farmers) and Chick-Fil-A. In fact, Chick-Fil-A recently made a perfect shake over here in Duluth.

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Now that we've got that out of the way (priorities), I just want to exhale, because I've just finished one of the busiest weeks ever. I've assigned most of my 2011 Songwriter's Market articles, sent 2011 Poet's Market to Pre-Press, tested out the WritersMarket.com site for some new platform change, ran outputs of 2011 Novel & Short Story Writer's Market, made several Poetic Asides blog posts, re-ran outputs of 2011 Children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market, and still wrote the best WritersMarket.com newsletter ever. (Whew!)

Oh yeah, I also...

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...wrote the following poems as part of my poem-a-day in 2010 challenge to myself.

150-Distracted

It's hard to comprehend something more
complicated than ourselves. We think
we're tops; we think we earned it.
Our planet orbits a star and is
orbited by a moon that sometimes
mirrors that star in the evening
even as the universe stretches apart.
These are things we think and maybe
we're right. Like when the planet
was flat and gods cared what we did
and everything revolved around us.

151-Props

She has two mouths--one for talking,
one for kissing--and she is French
(two mother tongues ready to talk
and kiss francais). Beside the creek
of a dozen fireflies, we tan-
talize our mouths and ears. She tells
me I can kiss. I say she can
talk her way into my heartbeat.

152-Confession

I hear music in my head
I know no one else can hear.

153-Nexus

We set up shop on the wrong side
of the tracks. One train passes, then
another. They pass in a flash,
those satellites. I chase napkins
around the shop and tell the kids
not to touch things they cannot kiss.
The dolls hold out for licorice,
but they'll be waiting and waiting.
I may be a clodhopper, but
my brain is a pipe dream covered
in soot. My eyes, little moons, chase
lickety-split those cabooses--
aching to hear the whistle, but
afraid to stand on the platform.

154-Conflict

Tonight is perfect for staying inside,
but I'm busy contorting my organs.
For instance, my heart and brain love to fight.

Sometimes, you can see them twist my body
this way and that when it is raining, though
tonight is perfect for staying inside.

My lungs breathe heavy and my skin itches
to touch you, to let you know I'm all right,
but I'm busy contorting my organs.

It's a put off, I know. Losing control
when I'm around you, unable to say,
for instance, my heart and brain love to fight.

155-Don't ask

All day, I hear thunder, but I don't see any rain
while birds flit between branches and squirrels
bark at the dogs upstairs that never settle down;
maybe I heard a knock at the door, but I put
off answering it, and when I eventually went
to leave, there was a package waiting for me,
and I wondered who would leave such a gift.

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Anyway, if I can write a poem a day during a week such as this one, then I have no excuses to hide behind for the rest of 2010. Only 210 to go!

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