Thursday, September 29, 2005

People Who Piss Us Off

Arrogant people who submit poems w/o bothering to read the guidelines (what part of "no rhyming" do you not understand?) then give us a hard time when we reject them, rather nicely, albeit in a rush and make a typo:

"as your reply doesnt make sense in any kind of way i will not be disheartened by the fact you dont want my poems, you fuckwits--Michael Duvall"

"go to www.allpoetry.com and check out the 35 poems and 32 contests won, fair play to you for your reply, it made me laugh, but i could pull a better poem out my ass than you could sweat over and create, and how does one suck ass? does it involve applying my lips to your face and breathing in? in which case, id rather not. twats."--Michael Duvall

"but please, read back what you are sending to people and wonder why they aren't bothered that your "suck ass" piss poor company isnt willing to accept submissions, i mean, i know there is no way my poetry can be considered poor, EVERYBODY who has read it loves it, but then, they have all mastered at least basic English, i guess there is a hint in your name you scumbag worthless immigrant."--Michael Duvall

Now, because Michael Duvall (and EVERYBODY who reads his poems) considers himself the second coming of Robert Lowell, we've decided to print one of his submitted poems here so you can decide for yourself (and so we can't be accused of not publishing genius):


Can I Kiss You?


Can I kiss you? But so gently, so our lips they barely meet
Can my fingers trace the back of your neck? Whilst I taste your breath so sweet?
Can we stare into each others eyes as we breathe into another?
Will you whisper oh so softly that I can take you as my lover?
Can I pull your head back slowly, my fingers in your hair?
Will you run your fingers down your neck while my wet lips kiss you there?
Is your breathing getting deeper as our lips again embrace?
Before we closed our eyes to kiss what was that look upon your face?
I hope that was a tremor as our tongues they do collide
You want me and I want you our kisses silently confide
I pull your hair as gently as I take my lips away
Our eyes they lock, a carnal look, I hold you in my sway
I turn you around, lift up your hair, on your slender neck I breathe
My view from here, your gentle breasts, a scene I can’t believe
I kiss your neck, some urgency as I move on to your shoulder
Your beauty is a sight for the sore eyes of this beholder
Across the room, a mirror spied, you watch your eager twin
As her dress falls from her shoulders, naked in delicious sin
I turn you round, your breath so hot; our wet lips lock once more
My jeans they strain against your love and I’m aching, almost sore
Our kiss it lasts, we don’t let go as we dance across the floor
My jeans they land, your nimble touch, onto my bed we fall
Our kiss it ends, I break it off, other lips I long to taste
I start my journey downward but not an inch I waste
I kiss your neck; I taste each breast, each tender bud I tease
As I slowly kiss your tummy is that a murmured please?
I take my time, I want you bad, this night I want to savour
You lift your hips as I get close, I anticipate the flavour
My tongue it snakes, I’m on your thigh your legs are now apart
I breathe directly onto you but on the other thigh I start
I suck your skin so softly I’m an inch away from pleasing
Is that a groan of impatience, oh please, I’m only teasing
You see what you don’t realise, I want to just as much
My tongue it gently flicks you, you shiver at its touch
My lips they wrap onto your bud, my tongue searches around
You’re biting on your bottom lip, stifling a sound
You taste so good, our juices mix, my fingers help explore
They slide into you easily, your body I adore
You’re breathing deep, your hands they grasp and squeeze upon my sheet
It’s time now for our union, our bodies ache to meet
I kiss goodbye your tender place, my hips push you apart
Electrically our eyes they lock, you long for me to start
A cheeky glint in my eyes as I hover just above
My end presses against you, on the entrance of your love
You wrap your legs around me and try to push me in
We both cry out, I enter deep it was a fight I couldn’t win
You kiss me hard, you taste yourself, and the thought drives me insane
I slam myself into you now, again, again, again
I look down upon you; your milky skin’s a dream
I never want to hurt you but I long to make you scream
You’re soaking wet, our pulses soar, and our hearts beat unified
We are so right wrapped together, our love won’t be denied
Your eyes they close, your breath you hold, you’re welling deep below
We’ll cross that line together, I get ready to let go
Your body shakes, my thrusts increase your knees they lift up higher
You start to scream as I explode, our bodies are on fire
We both erupt; we hold on tight, our bodies dance as one
Our choreographer our passion, hotter than the sun
Our breath returns, but slowly, our hearts beat glad relief
I look into the sated eyes of this beauty underneath
Can I kiss you oh so gently? May our lips they never part?
Can I hold you in my arms so safe? Will you hold me in your heart?


Folks, I think we've found the next Pushcart nominee.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Baltimore Book Festival

I went for a few hours on Sunday. I saw TC Boyle read; I'd been pretty excited to see him, but at the end my impression was...eh. He was interesting and had a sense of humor (and he was fun to look at since he's one of those people who looks like an animal died on top of his head), but he used the environment as an excuse for just going through the motions. The festival took place outside, and the readings and panels were held in open tents. So noise traveled--for instance, there was some guy who kept walking around playing an instrument. And there was opera or something being sung in one of the tents. So there were multiple distractions. But Boyle assumed that his audience wouldn't be able to focus on him, so most of the session was just a Q & A.

Anyway, I had wanted to see the panel on online publishing, but for various reasons, I got there late. Two members of the forum were editors on http://www.thepedestalmagazine.com. They talked about the need for online journals to unite, and apparently there is some sort of organization, but it isn't very organized. Also, they talked about the struggle to find funding. One member suggested that the key was to find funding from nontraditional sources.

Did anyone catch the beginning of the panel? Or attend the festival?

Friday, September 16, 2005

The Writer's Almanac

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/

It's a public radio program hosted by Garrison Keillor, but also you can sign up to be emailed the transcripts each day. The program consists of reading a poem and sharing events in history about writers.

Monday, September 12, 2005

The Muddy Middle

According to Hannah Wilson of the Northwest Review (ca. 1994, The Literary Review):

"Three problems seem typical of the stories that are often ably crafted but fall into the middle (in between very good and terrible) grouping:

Structure—In trying to avoid textbook structure (exposition, rising complication, climax, denouement), writers fail to create any line of tension along which the story can move.

Imagery—Writers learn that images matter but can't discover ones that emerge naturally from their material, so that images often seem slathered on for effect, especially at the story's end.

Characterization—Perhaps because they feel the need to get stories into the mail, writers create characters they don't seem to know very well or care much about. If the writer doesn't care, why should the reader?

I remember reading a note, I think of Richard Bausch's about a story of his; it may have been "The Fireman's Wife." He said he had the idea long before he could work through the story. Before he could finish it, he had to develop some compassion for an unpleasant character. That compassion seems missing from too many of the stories we read."

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Fall 2005

is up at http://JMWW.150m.com. Comments and feedback are appreciated!