tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69993164608017352522024-02-20T01:15:03.160-05:00eric's anecdotes, etc.almost only poetry.Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-10596936773197727292023-12-05T09:17:00.000-05:002023-12-05T09:17:31.769-05:00 Go with God<div><br /></div><div>She says it under her breath<br />as I walk out the door</div><div><br />every day, as if <br />she thinks I cannot hear her—</div><div><br />half wanting<br />half not wanting me</div><div><br />to hear her—<br />because she knows</div><div><br />I am atheist<br />and she is afraid</div><div><br />I may try to force <br />my beliefs on her.</div><div><br />She says it under her breath<br />as I walk out the door,</div><div><br />always in a whisper<br />to try to save my soul,</div><div><br />a directive,<br />whether I like it or not. </div><div><br /><i>Go with God</i>, she says. <br />I will go without.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>-<br /><br /><br />"<b>Go with God</b>" is published in the Fall 2023 issue of <i><a href="https://www.bayoureview.org/" target="_blank">The Bayou Review</a></i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eric</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-57612901517016155132023-12-03T08:33:00.003-05:002023-12-05T09:19:15.029-05:00Dreams and Nightmares<div><span> </span><b>False Hope </b></div><div><br />I had a dream about you,<br />and it was like eating leftovers <br />of the veal piccata you made <br />that spring eve in 2004<br />before you went vegan,</div><div><br />save for the few times a year<br />you crave fish<br />or when mussels are the special<br />at one of the Michelin-starred restaurants<br />to which you are drawn, </div><div><br />because, to you, life<br />is all about flavor, or should be,<br />and you want life to taste rich <br />and melt in your mouth<br />twenty-four seven.</div><div><br />That recollection has left me<br />peckish and standing in the rain<br />for eight hours straight<br />with false hope of getting a seat<br />at The French Laundry.<br /><br /><br />-<br /><br /></div><div> <br /><b><span> </span>It’s Not Me</b></div><div><br />Waking from a dream, you roll away from me, <br />toward the wall. I can hear you mumbling something<br />about “cheating bastard.” I know</div><div><br />it’s not about me specifically,</div><div>but your therapist says that you carry<br />residual PTSD and trust issues</div><div><br />from your mother, your father,<br />and every past relationship you’ve had.<br />I know it’s not me. </div><div><br />Still, you shrug me off, when I try to touch you.<br />You give me the silent treatment all day,<br />and I walk on eggshells.</div><div><br />Tonight, I sleep on the sofa in the den,<br />and, at almost midnight exactly, I stir to the sound <br />of you sobbing on the floor by my side.</div><div><br />You say you had a nightmare and you’re scared.<br />I tell you that you’re safe, and I hold you tightly.<br />You whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”<br /><br /><br />-<br /><br /></div><div> <br /><b><span> </span>Remembering the Dream </b></div><div><br />I am sleeping tonight<br />on an overstuffed mattress.<br />It is lumpy but soft.<br />I roll into the basin<br />my body has spent <br />nearly a decade perfecting.<br />It cradles me in the dark,<br />comfortable and familiar.<br />I am letting the wind<br />outside my window<br />rock me, as I slumber, my <br />snoring shaking the rafters.<br />I am letting the clamor<br />of my rapid eye movement<br />act as my exercise <br />for the week, and I am<br />warm for a moment.<br />I am letting the song<br />of my digital alarm clock<br />represent the end of time. <br />I am remembering the dream<br />I had almost forgotten.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>-<br /><br /><br />"<b>False Hope</b>," "<b>It's Not Me</b>," and "<b>Remembering the Dream</b>" are included in <i><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dreams-nightmares-poets-northwest/1144153237?fbclid=IwAR1YenAWwgANzjCniwSOYY1Gj_k7_EBbCa93vOnwPmHYLh110dRpclXCsNY" target="_blank">Dreams + Nightmares</a></i>, a 2023 anthology of work by the poets of <a href="http://www.poetsnw.com/" target="_blank">Poets Northwest</a> in Houston, Texas.<br /> </div><div>Eric</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-30430753479421844152023-11-09T17:24:00.011-05:002023-12-03T12:42:56.618-05:00Two Stepping In Texas<div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span>Snowflakes</b></div><div><br /></div><div>The fallacy of snowflakes</div><div>is that no two are alike, </div><div><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>because . . . chances are,</span></div><div>given the hundreds of millions </div><div>of billions that fall, maybe two </div><div>are identical, </div><div><br /></div><div>just as there are</div><div>doppelgangers for all of us, </div><div>and just like, odds are,</div><div>given dozens of dice rolls, sometimes craps</div><div>is a winner. </div><div><br /></div><div>Perhaps planets grow life forms</div><div><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>just like snowflakes </span></div><div>duplicate themselves, </div><div>casually, as if almost undetectable. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But,</span></div><div>as has been proclaimed </div><div>by countless philosophers</div><div>and in “the Good Book” (at Ecclesiastes 1:9),</div><div>there is nothing new under the sun </div><div>or above, or beyond it. </div><div><br /></div><div>And, even if the universe implodes,</div><div>it will recycle itself,</div><div>again and again,</div><div><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>with a bang.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>-</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span> </span>Romeo</b></div><div><br /></div><div>O Romeo, Romeo, </div><div>you are my <i>David</i>,</div><div><br /></div><div>my fair-skinned masterpiece—</div><div>my beautiful love-boy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Romeo, you are </div><div>what is left of my heart, my</div><div><br /></div><div>misguided youth, faded </div><div>(and fading) memories,</div><div><br /></div><div>my once-golden rainbow,</div><div>my final hope.</div><div><br /></div><div>O yesterday! My Romeo,</div><div>you are my <i>raison d'être</i>,</div><div><br /></div><div>my last requiem,</div><div>my grand opus. </div><div><br /></div><div>My <i>faux pas</i>. Romeo, </div><div>you are my greatest loss,</div><div><br /></div><div>all my hopes and dreams</div><div>save dying Juliet,</div><div><br /></div><div>an adolescent sigh.</div><div>My best, Wm. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>-</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div>"<b>Snowflakes</b>" and "<b>Romeo</b>" were winners of their respective contests in the Poetry Society of Texas's 2022 Annual Contests and were published in the <i>2023 Book of the Year</i>.</div><div><br /></div></div><div>Eric</div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-62766446515340503612023-11-09T14:31:00.003-05:002023-12-03T12:41:47.091-05:00Acorn Collection<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span>The Apocalypse</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p>They roam the streets,<br /> brain dead, scorching Mother Earth,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>leaving a wide wake of waste.<br /> All sentient things<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>recoil from their tactile touch<br />or die.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>The atmosphere hangs acrid;<br />the water, metallic in taste<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>and texture.<br />Toxic. And they consume<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>and abandon, discard and disseminate<br />sans regulation.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Darwin’s theoretical specter shrugs.<br />This species has made<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>the idea of natural selection<br /> wholly unnatural.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Tides churn into tsunamis.<br />Fracked earth trembles and quakes.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Weather rages. The wind storms.<br />If they were zombies,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>we could end those brain-dead<br /> monsters.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span> </span>Buyer’s Market</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;"><o:p> <br /></o:p>That house in the middle of the block<br /> is empty in the suburbs.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>The house is empty,<br />and it is not the only one—<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>the grass is long. There are<br /> cracks in the sidewalk.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Junk mail overflows<br />the mailbox.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>There are no curtains<br /> on any window. It’s quiet;<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>there is no laughter.<br />There is no streetlight<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>on the far-right corner,<br /> where the neighbors sleep.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>The news stacks up daily<br /> on the curb in the suburbs.<o:p> </o:p></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><br /></div><div>-</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b> Cats and Dogs</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">It's
pouring outside,</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">so
my muscle memory</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">vacuums
the living room floor</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">instead
of mowing the lawn.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">I
don't have gills, so</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">instead
of walking on water,</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">I
moonwalk to “Billie Jean”</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">on
my iPod.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">All
of a sudden,</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">I
am Robin Williams</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">dressed
as Mrs. Doubtfire<i>. </i>I am</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">letting
the vacuum lead.</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">It's
raining cats and canines,</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">so
my muscle memory</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">sweeps
the kitchen</div><div style="margin-left: 0.3in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.3in;">instead of raking the yard.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><br /></div><div>-</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b> </b><b>Dissolutions</b></div><div><br /></div><div>There is nothing left</div><div>after a day of SAPCR petitions</div><div>and discovery. The divorce</div><div><p style="text-align: left;">he filed today was not his own,<br />and it was paid for in multiple ways;<br />money is always a figure.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Day after day,<br />he aids client after client<br />dissolve<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>that which once made them whole,<br />divide community assets, fault.<br />Or no fault.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p> If love was
ever a factor,<br />a numerically critical part<br />of the equation,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>it is now known as <i>x</i>—<br />the one variable neither party can<br />solve for. Primary<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>possession is nine-tenths,<br />and the final tenth is unspent anger<br />and negative regret.<o:p><br /></o:p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Sometimes, they add<br />subtraction of family names<br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">out of spite.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span></b><b>Ice Packs</b></div><p></p>
<p style="text-align: left;">I thought I was dead,<br />because the sidewalk under the overpass<br />is ice cold<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>and I huddle there alone<br />for warmth,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>while the rain falls frozen<br />around me<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>and the frostbite on my fingers<br />packs the throbbing pain<br />in numbness.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Street dogs cozy up<br />around my cocooned body,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>which I have tucked<br />against a concrete wall<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>to evade the wind.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>If we wake in the morning,<br />I will share scraps<br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">of gratitude.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mostly Swamp</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I am watching the trees sway</div><div style="text-align: left;">as the warm wind whips. It is</div><div style="text-align: left;">not yet hurricane season, </div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">but along the Gulf Coast,<br />where the terrain is mostly swamp<br />and delta,<br /> storms
swallow trees.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>The soft terra firma gives way<br />when roots push to the surface<br />and trees lie down.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>For a moment, perhaps,<br />its lumber becomes a dam,<br />rerouting city planning<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p> and the water rises.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Boats launch from driveways<br />and tow trucks get to work<br />towing flooded cars.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>This bayou city is mostly swamp,<br />and its civil engineers<br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">are swamped with calls.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span></b><b>Oh, My Stars</b></div><p></p><p style="break-after: avoid; text-align: left;"><b> <i>—</i></b><i>Dear
Urania<br /></i><o:p> <br /></o:p>Give me the blue moon<br />to hang outside my window,<br />buxom and bright. Let it<br />linger until fingernail slight.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Consider. Yes, reconsider<br />the arbitrary eight orbs<br />of my youth.<br />Give me back my Pluto!<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>To hell with Haumea and Makemake.<br />Give no weight to Eris.<br />Don’t recognize Ceres.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Affirm the time-worn truths<br />of childhood dioramas. Styrofoam<br />spheroids never decay.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Let Orion and the two bears<br />battle for another millennia. Who cares?<br />Give me back my memories.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>I ask this with all humility.<br /> And,
please,<br />do not send a giant asteroid<br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">to smite me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span></b><b>Second Chances</b> </div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">The field glows emerald <br />at dusk,<br /> and the sky
is cool blue.<br />It is cloudless.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Yesterday was so warm.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>We have been given a second chance<br />at springtime, and there is<br />a gentle breeze<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p> blowing<br />from the west.<br />Crickets chirp<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>in the distance,<br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">and the scent is jasmine.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span>-</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span></b><b>That<i> je ne sais quoi</i></b> </div><p></p><div style="text-align: left;">I could tell that he was kin<br />before I saw him.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>His blood rang clear in his voice,<br />as Cajun as it comes—<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>not broken English<br />or even patois <i>français</i>.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p> Perhaps,<br />it was the washboard rhythm,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>the jug beat,<br />or the way he said “sister”<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>and “Baton Rouge”—<br /><i>mais, c’est le je ne sais quoi.<br /></i><o:p> <br /></o:p>He looks like one of our cousins<br />from Shreveport<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>or one of the Abbeville twins,<br /> the angry
son.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>He did not order the mud bugs,<br />like his buddies did,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>because this is H-Town,<br />and he knows better.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>-</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">These nine (yes, 9) poems are published together in the 2021 issue of <i>The Acorn Review</i>, a publication of Grossmont College<i>.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Eric</div><p></p></div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-59661508809212237772022-11-01T08:29:00.003-04:002023-11-09T17:16:57.684-05:00Grapes of Wrath <div style="text-align: left;"><div>I am wine as it comes </div><div>from a bottle or a box. I am nectar</div><div>of the gods, </div><div><br /></div><div>stomped under men’s feet, </div><div>placed in a cask or casket,</div><div>in damp cellars. I am</div><div><br /></div><div>sweet and slightly toxic.</div><div>I have legs. I will give you </div><div>my warm body, my delicate, </div><div><br /></div><div>almost acrid nose. I will</div><div>knock you on your sweet ass.</div><div>I am fine wine. I am</div><div><br /></div><div>the grapes God—</div><div>the one true god’s wrath.</div><div>As the day breaks, I am</div><div><br /></div><div>another pressurized cranium,</div><div>a numb reminder of excess,</div><div>a subtle sense of regret,</div><div><br /></div><div>stomped under men’s feet.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">-<br /></span></b><o:p> </o:p><o:p> <br /></o:p><span style="color: grey;">"</span><b>Grapes of Wrath</b><span style="color: grey;">" received a 3rd-</span><span style="color: grey;">place award in Ohio Poetry Day
2022 poetry contest #12, Non-traditional Narrator. It is published in the
contest's compilation book, </span><i style="color: grey;">Ohio Poetry
Day: Best of 2022</i><span style="color: grey;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: grey;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: grey;">Eric</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><o:p> </o:p></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoHeader" style="tab-stops: .5in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoHeader" style="tab-stops: .5in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoHeader" style="tab-stops: .5in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoHeader" style="tab-stops: .5in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk23179731;"></span>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-17956475434405326622022-06-18T17:49:00.002-04:002023-12-19T22:50:31.228-05:00Texas Trio<div><b><span><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span> </span>Banging Cabinets</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I had almost forgotten </div><div>how quickly change can happen. </div><div><br /></div><div>The day may appear almost</div><div>calm in the morning. But then, </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>without warning,</div><div>a cabinet door in the kitchen</div><div><br /></div><div>bangs shut,</div><div>just one, at first . . . just one.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fight, flight, freeze.</div><div>Wait for the inevitable echo</div><div><br /></div><div>to reach the den. </div><div>Another door bangs shut. Then, </div><div><br /></div><div>in rapid <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA;">succession</span>,</div><div>three or four more</div><div><br /></div><div>pop like popcorn,</div><div>a burst of gunfire.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe, one last bang for luck. </div><div>Morning songbirds </div><div><br /></div><div>turn to a murder of crows, </div><div>an unkindness of raven, in a flip </div><div><br /></div><div>of a switch, without warning.</div><div>It might be too late.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>-</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><span> </span>Naming My Friends </b></div><div><br /></div><div><i><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>when I die,</i></div><div><i><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>you will recognize me by my tattoo.</i></div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>—Zeina Hashem Beck</div><div><br /></div><div>I am listening to Pentatonix</div><div>and Walk Off the Earth on YouTube </div><div>when a video of your</div><div>recitation of “Naming Things”</div><div>queues up next. And that poem</div><div><br /></div><div>carries me like a refugee on its back, </div><div>packed in a duffel bag, rucksack, kit bag</div><div>with all its worldly belongings.</div><div>We are on the lam,</div><div>running from our past.</div><div><br /></div><div>I carry my home with me,</div><div>or it might be carelessly dragged</div><div>in the dirt behind me.</div><div>I have been naming my friends—</div><div>loneliness, darkness, regret.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I fear I will never return </div><div>to the city where I was born. The walls</div><div>have crumbled like Jenga,</div><div>and we are suddenly nomads again.</div><div>I have named myself “goodbye.”</div><div><br /></div><div>And the bombs have fallen,</div><div>strafing our memories, our recollections,</div><div>our nostalgia. I survive because </div><div>I carry my whole life with me</div><div>in this rucksack on my back. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div>-</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b><span> </span>Dear Poet</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I want to ask you about technique</div><div>and your reasons for doing one thing one way</div><div>as opposed to some other. Should I </div><div>do it that way too? Is there a method?</div><div><br /></div><div>Could I borrow your mindset</div><div>or, maybe, some madness?</div><div><br /></div><div>Where should one line break?</div><div>Should I combine multiple lines to make one very long line? Should I</div><div>chop them</div><div>into tiny phrases</div><div>or drop them </div><div>one</div><div>word</div><div>for</div><div>each</div><div>line</div><div>on the page?</div><div><br /></div><div>It is important to know these things:</div><div>technique and reason. </div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But which </div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>is more important?</div><div><br /></div><div>When should I indent?</div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Or should I?</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Or should I</div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>repeat the last line?</div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div>-</div><div><br /></div><div>"<b>Banging Cabinets</b>," "<b>Naming My Friends</b>," and "<b>Dear Poet</b>" each won 1st place in their respective contest categories in the <a href="https://poetrysocietyoftexas.org/" target="_blank">Poetry Society of Texas</a>'s 2021 Contests and are published in the Society's <i>2022 Book of the Year</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eric</div><div><br /></div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-76928476549146116792022-01-17T07:37:00.011-05:002023-12-03T12:42:24.207-05:00Two More from 3rd Wednesday<p><br /></p><p> <b><span> </span>Dances with Dogs</b></p><div>
It is barely six a.m.,<br />
and he dons his coat and boots<br />
in silence. He tries, but<br />
the dogs are not having<br /> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>the
silence.</div><div><br />
He’s a sidewalk rhythmic gymnast,<br />
wielding leashes wildly.<br />Like computer-cable spaghetti,<br />
they intertwine<br /><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and twist
and tango.<br /><br /></div><div>There is no open field,<br /> <a name="_Hlk64318650">where a pack can run free.<br /></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk64318650;">The lots are edged
with curbs.<br /></span>There are doggy-bag dispensers<br /><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>in the
park.<br /><br /></div><div>
He dances with dogs,<br /><div>come rainy day or shine. </div><div>Neighbors cross the street, </div>but smile when they see him,<br /><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>hands
indisposed.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>They give hesitant waves<br /><div>and, sometimes, a sympathetic </div><div>greeting, knowing that </div><div>he has himself a handful</div> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>or two.<br /><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div><o:p>-</o:p></div><div><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div><o:p> </o:p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: AR-SA;"><br clear="all" style="break-before: page; page-break-before: always;" /></span><b><span> </span>Missing the Last Train<br /></b><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <br /> </span>The last train came and went,<br />and I waited for you. I must have<br />missed your phone call<br />last night. I waited,<br /> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and the
human shadows<br /> dispersed. I was sleeping<br /> on the subway bench all night.<br />The morning air turned cool,<br />and the damp was like a kiss<br /> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>to wake me.<br />The first train came and went,<br />and your smile is like the sun.<br /><o:p> </o:p></div><div><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div><o:p>-</o:p></div><div><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div><b>"Dances with Dogs"</b> and <b>"Missing the Last Train"</b> are published on at <a href="https://thirdwednesdaymagazine.org/2021/11/29/two-poems-by-eric-blanchard/" target="_blank">3rd Wednesday online</a> and will be included in the Spring 2022 print issue of 3<sup>rd</sup> Wednesday. Thanks for reading!</div><div><o:p><p class="MsoNormal">Eric</p></o:p><o:p> <br /></o:p><o:p> </o:p></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-21735248565408174542021-08-01T08:01:00.002-04:002021-09-10T21:23:59.928-04:00House of Music<div style="text-align: left;">Our house is alive <br />with your classic piano pieces<br />and Maxwell's electric guitar.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />So far, I find it <br />entirely tolerable. To be honest, <br />I cherish every chord.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />I am not pulling my hair out<br />or shoving cotton in my ears,<br />as predicted, </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>because <br />“Air on the G String” has more to offer<br />than calm perspective. And </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />a house filled with music<br />has always helped to silence<br />my mind's buzzing hive.<br /><br /><br />-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />"<b>House of Music</b>" is published in the Summer 2021 (Vol. 47, No. 2) issue of <i><a href="https://www.californiastatepoetrysociety.org/our-archives" target="_blank">California Quarterly</a></i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Eric </div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-64465518783942077942021-07-04T10:11:00.005-04:002021-09-10T21:24:30.907-04:00The Myth of Mulberries<div style="text-align: left;"><div>My mother is picking mulberries again.</div><div>Yes, the real thing. I know </div><div><br /></div><div>I always thought they were mythical</div><div>and that they grew on bushes only</div><div><br /></div><div>in children’s books and nursery rhymes, </div><div>exalted every May Day</div><div><br /></div><div>and used to teach children</div><div>basic hygiene and household chores </div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>in melody.</div><div><br /></div><div>The ripe ones are edible, you know,</div><div>and they grow in huge trees.</div><div><br /></div><div>Who would have thought it? Not I. They are</div><div><br /></div><div>baked into 4th-of-July firecracker pies</div><div>and used to add tartness to tea. </div><div><br /></div><div>But unripe mulberries are toxic</div><div>and can cause wild hallucinations—</div><div><br /></div><div>a fairytale poison apple,</div><div>the big bad wolf and pixie dust.</div><div><br /></div><div>Children’s books do not teach us that.</div><div>Yet, this is the truth about mulberries.</div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br />"<b>The Myth of Mulberries</b>" is published in the 2020 Winter Issue of <a href="http://poetryquarterly.com/" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Poetry Quarterly</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Eric</div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-44627736408653938322020-10-23T15:54:00.018-04:002021-11-25T20:14:59.470-05:00Ohio Poetry Day Trifecta<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Wild Rabbits<o:p></o:p></b></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">I just cannot resist</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">the rush of sunlight bouncing off ink lines </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">scratched onto a page </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">as though a hen </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">was scratching for grub </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">in the yard. </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Or the evening shadows </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">cast along the tree line</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">by the distinctive ears of wild rabbits </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">out near the burn pit, </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">just past the tool shed,</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">under the swing.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">I just cannot resist </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">jotting the scene down into ink lines,</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">before it disappears,</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">as if it were all very real,</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">as if the grief was in the distant</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">past, </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">out back, near the burn pit,</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">under the swing.</span></h4><div><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><h4><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
-</span></h4><h4><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">American Roulette<o:p></o:p></b></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Pick a color.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Turn the tumbler. </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Go for broke. Do not </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">remove</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">a bullet. </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Add an AR-15.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Raise</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">the stakes. Raise </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">the flag.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Put more lives</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">on the line.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Add another</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">caliber, another</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">eight hundred rounds </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">per minute,</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">armor-piercing.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Raise the flag.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Add religion. </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Add gender. Add gender ID.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Turn the tumbler.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Add TNT.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Add megatons. </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Go </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">for broke. </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">Stand your ground.</span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">All lives </span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">in.</span></h4><div><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>-</div><div>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Expulsion Figure<o:p></o:p></b></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div></div><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><i>after <a href="http://www.valleyhouse.com/detail.asp?artworkid=6336&mode=add2collection" target="_blank">a cast bronze sculpture of the same name</a> </i></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>by Michael O’Keefe, 2009 </i></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">As if she were caught</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">in transition, half fading away,</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">almost wispy in the mist.</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Her ancestors were Catholic—</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">perhaps “papists,” as they say, </span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">and disfavored.</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">As a people, they faced exile,</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">stripped of their livelihood and land.</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Many fought the Crown and died.</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Some were imprisoned at Halifax </span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">and Fort Edward, as if cast </span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">in irons or bronze. </span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The remaining escaped to Quebec</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">or Louisiana (a so-called “free state”)</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">by way of what is now called Haiti.</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">She wears Acadian scars,</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">half fading away, perhaps as though</span></span></h4><h4><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">teleporting through time. </span></span></h4><div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-weight: 400;"><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><h4><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;">-</span></h4><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>Okay . . . a win, a place & a show: "<b>Wild Rabbits</b>" earned a 1st place, "<b>American Roulette</b>" garnered a 3rd place, and "<b>Expulsion Figure</b>" was awarded 2nd place in their respective categories in the <a href="https://ohiopoetryday.blogspot.com/2020/03/2020-ohio-poetry-day-contests.html" target="_blank">2020 Ohio Poetry Day contests</a>, and were published in the contest compilation chapbook, <i>Ohio Poetry Day: Best of 2020</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Eric</div><div><br /></div>Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-61825386362768709362020-01-09T16:12:00.006-05:002023-12-12T23:17:25.901-05:00Planning My Road Trip<blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>This will be epic!</i></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am planning my road trip.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Who am I kidding? I am
daydreaming.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Really, I will have to be
frugal<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and pack light,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but for an extended
adventure—<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
bring only essentials. Roll
my bedroll<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tightly, strap it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tightly to the luggage
rack.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The saddlebags are filled<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with necessities: road
flares, inner tube,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a selective assortment of
tools.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A duffel of clothes fit for
all seasons<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
sits on the passenger
pillion (rides bitch,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
if you will),<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
which would otherwise be
empty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My route has been mapped
out,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with various alternatives
tossed about,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
like a maverick or nomad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will visit forty-eight
states<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(and at least one foreign
country) alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, many things,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
like consumables, I can
gather<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
on the road;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
beg, borrow, steal the
rest. I will need<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a pup tent and a Coleman
stove<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for the road-side campsites<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
where I will sleep to save
money<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
on occasion, weather
permitting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It will be bare-bones and
dirt-cheap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Yes, even in my
dreams.) Now,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
if only I still had my hog.
. . . It won’t<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
be the same in a van.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">"<b>Planning My Road Trip,</b>" along with "<b>Inspiration,</b>" is published in Issue 93 (January
2020) of <i><a href="https://burningword.com/" target="_blank">Burningword Literary Journal</a></i>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-63470886269005333202020-01-02T07:39:00.005-05:002022-04-09T12:19:03.357-04:00There Is FireWhen the world around us<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
is exploding <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with disbelief <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and willful ignorance<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
while the truth<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
is on TV<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for all the world to see, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
smoke rises.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Smoke rises<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from the classrooms—<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
our social media <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
experts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Smoke rises<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from sidewalk cafés<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and picket lines,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
engulfs a righteous nation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Smoke lingers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
until there is blood <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in the streets.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And, as we
know, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
where there is smoke. . . .<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>- </o:p><br />
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"<b>There Is Fire,</b>" along with <span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><b>I feel naked—,</b></span><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"</span></span> is included in the Winter issue (Vol. XIII, No. 1) of <i><a href="https://thirdwednesdaymagazine.org/" target="_blank">Third Wednesday Magazine</a></i>, a </span></span><span style="color: #464646; font-family: inherit;">quarterly journal of literary and visual arts. </span><br />
<br />
Eric<br />
<br />Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-40462006388787643102019-10-20T09:24:00.001-04:002021-09-10T21:22:19.002-04:00Sonnets After Midnight<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
With all of these poets hooked on form,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
one’s apt to believe it’s like opiates or porn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And though this path is now rarely worn,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will torture syntax to start a swarm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At first, I stumble over every line,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
trying to juggle couplets that rhyme.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I start, but I stumble a dozen times<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to twist a phrase, to make it mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of meager skills I have no trust.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This formal structure has me beat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But wait!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
hobbled to my feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have finally found some metered lust<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and learned that writing sonnets after midnight<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
entails staying awake and artificial light.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
-<br />
<br />
"<b>Sonnets After Midnight</b>" won 1st place in the <a href="http://ohiopoetryday.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Ohio Poetry Day</a> 2019 poetry contest #5, The Sonnet Award, and was published in the contest compilation chapbook, <i>Ohio Poetry Day: Best of 2019</i>.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Eric<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-69367561880439263252018-12-09T18:45:00.003-05:002023-11-21T22:25:49.567-05:00You Are Welcome<br />
<div style="break-before: page; margin-bottom: 0in; page-break-before: always;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-before: page; mso-pagination: none; page-break-before: always; tab-stops: 34.6pt; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric;">
Existing begins with being<br />
born of intent or circumstance.<br />
<br />
Established, produced, conjured<br />
from the infinite vacuum<br />
of nonexistence. To be<br />
or not<br />
<br />
has been decided<br />
for you, without your knowledge<br />
or consent.<br />
<br /><i>
Now, hop to it!</i><br />
<br />
The responsibility</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-before: page; mso-pagination: none; page-break-before: always; tab-stops: 34.6pt; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric;">
is yours. And</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
what you do with it</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
is your responsibility.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><b>You Are Welcome</b>" is </span></span></span><span style="line-height: 18.48px;">published in the 2018 Winter Issue (#9) </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18.48px;">of </span><i style="line-height: 18.48px;"><a href="http://www.light-journal.com/" target="_blank">Light</a></i><span style="line-height: 18.48px;">, an </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #464646; font-family: inherit;">independent, reader-supported, quarterly journal of fine art photography and poetry. The theme of Issue 9 is "Begin." </span><br />
<span style="color: #464646; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="color: #464646; font-family: inherit;">In the winter of 2018, my poem, "<a href="https://ericvblanchard.blogspot.com/2017/12/fifteen-seconds.html" target="_blank">Fifteen Seconds</a>," was included in <i>Light</i>'s fifth issue, which bore the theme "Reflection."</span><br />
<span style="color: #464646; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="border: 0px; color: #464646; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #444444;">Eric</span></span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #444444;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-34268644789827670342017-12-10T08:37:00.002-05:002020-11-19T23:59:06.125-05:00Fifteen Seconds <div class="MsoNormal">
is all I
can spare<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to smell
the wilted rose petals<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
now
drying in a bowl <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in the foyer<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
on a shelf<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as I
pass on my way to the door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
petals<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
were
swept from the bed<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in the
morning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
after
adhering <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to the
sweat on our bodies<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
last
night<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as we
said our last goodbye.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t
have time<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for
coffee,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and I
didn't want</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to wake
you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"<b>Fifteen Seconds</b>" is published i<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;">n the 2017 Winter I</span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;">ssue (#5</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;">) </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18.48px;">of <i><a href="http://www.light-journal.com/" target="_blank">Light</a></i>, an </span></span></span><span style="color: #464646; font-family: inherit;">independent, reader-supported, quarterly journal of fine art photography and poetry in its second year of publication. The theme of Issue 5 is "Reflection."</span><br />
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; color: #464646; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #444444;">Eric</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 18.48px;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #444444;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-87536173763175359442017-10-19T20:41:00.001-04:002020-10-31T23:12:25.467-04:00The Bay is Crisp<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormal">An open window lets the air in,</div><div class="MsoNormal">lets in the brackish air. It is early,</div><div class="MsoNormal">just before dawn.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Boats, still moored,</div><div class="MsoNormal">bob languidly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And those departing</div><div class="MsoNormal">are loath to make wake,</div><div class="MsoNormal">nary a ripple.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Fishermen (and fisher</div><div class="MsoNormal">women too) seek out a living,</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">eke out a life,</div><div class="MsoNormal">dredging from the deep</div><div class="MsoNormal">to furnish a feast for someone.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The nip in the air</div><div class="MsoNormal">wakes one faster than coffee.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Profit by the pound,</div><div class="MsoNormal">but only on good days, only</div><div class="MsoNormal">if the weather behaves—</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">a day just like today,</div><div class="MsoNormal">we both hope and pray.</div><div><br /></div></div></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"<b>The Bay is Crisp</b>" won 3<sup>rd</sup> place in the <a href="http://ohiopoetryday.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Ohio Poetry Day</a> 2017
poetry contest #3, Evelyn Barker Award: “In Praise of Traditional Values,” and was published in the contest compilation chapbook, <i>Ohio Poetry Day: Best of 2017</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Eric<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-72007910863523127412017-02-06T00:08:00.002-05:002019-09-19T17:29:07.976-04:00Another Bartender Love Affair<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe, it is simply because <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
they
provide all necessities of life,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
smiling and calling us “honey”—<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
whatever’s
on tap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mere presence is life affirming, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a semblance
of social construct we all need<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as we drink ourselves to death—<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a look in
the mirror.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tomorrow, we re-belly up,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
another
round of affirmation, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a double whiskey back—</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
one more .
. . and the check.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>-</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My poem, "<b>Another Bartender Love Affair</b>," is included i<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">n </span></span></span><a href="http://www.musepiepress.com/shotglass/issue21/index.html" target="_blank">Issue 21</a> (</span></span><span style="background-color: white;">January 2017</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;">) of </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>Shot Glass Journal</i>, </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">an on-line journal devoted to short poetry published by <a href="http://www.musepiepress.com/" target="_blank">Muse-Pie Press</a><i>.</i> </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;">You should treat yourself to the jewels contained in the entire issue, but </span><a href="http://www.musepiepress.com/shotglass/eric_blanchard1.html" style="line-height: 23px;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;"> is a direct link to my poem</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 23px;">.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 23px;">Eric</span></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-62544503603828179362016-06-05T07:57:00.007-04:002022-09-05T15:20:16.767-04:00Garden Economics <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><div><i> The
beautiful landscape as we know it<br /></i><i> belongs
to those who are like it.<br /></i><i> </i>—Muso Soseki<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Capitalism is such a beautiful weed.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>It grows most striking<br /> without constraint<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>and prospers for a while<br /> in
fertile soil,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>until it chokes<br />on its own coiled roots<br /> and<br /> unrestrained
vines—<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>a laissez-faire foliage.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>A mindful gardener prunes such flora,<br /> held so
fair,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>with incisiveness, with tender love<br /> and care,<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>lest he be compelled to axe and spade.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>He does not go<br /> all Edward Scissorhands on it,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p> snip, snip,
<br /> manicure,</div><div>manipulate,
cultivate.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Capitalism is a beautiful weed,<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>a living, growing thing,<br /> not
a delicate thing.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Trim, tend, and cultivate,<br /> or axe, spade.</div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div><br /></div></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: #fefdfa; break-after: avoid; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18.48px;">"<b><a href="https://mockturtlezine.com/2016/06/11/garden-economics/" target="_blank">Garden Economics</a></b>" was included in <a href="https://mockturtlezine.com/online-issue/" target="_blank">Issue 13 (Spring 2016)</a> of </span></span><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">local </span><a href="http://www.daytonohio.gov/Pages/default.aspx" style="color: #888888; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Dayton</a> <span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">journal</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18.48px;"> <i><a href="https://mockturtlezine.com/" target="_blank">Mock Turtle Zine</a><b>.</b></i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 18.48px;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><a href="https://mockturtlezine.com/past-issues/" target="_blank"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Past issues of </span><i style="line-height: 18px;">Mock Turtle</i></a><span style="line-height: 18px;"> can be viewed online.</span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: #fefdfa; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: #fefdfa; break-after: avoid; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fefdfa; break-after: avoid; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18.2px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444;">Eric</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></span></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-39166543394418123282015-12-13T11:11:00.003-05:002021-08-27T22:11:39.759-04:00Lost Pepper, Roots of Evil<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Lost Pepper</b></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While clawing at the ground,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think I uncovered history. As others <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
were digging up bones,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I discovered a miniature bottle <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of Tabasco sauce <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and a rusty blade.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My brother, the expert, says it’s a piece of crap,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but it cuts. The
tiny bottle <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
makes his mouth water. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He covets the burn—lost pepper, vinegar, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
salt in a wound—<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
sustained in sediment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder how long it has aged,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
savor the burn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="color: #7f7f7f;">-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Roots of Evil</b></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormal">Picking out parsnips and turnips,</div><div class="MsoNormal">I decide to surprise you </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>with extra beets.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know how their sweet blood pleases you.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">When it drips from your lips,</div><div class="MsoNormal">I realize how ironic it is for a vampire</div><div class="MsoNormal">to be vegan.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">You wipe some juice away, </div><div class="MsoNormal">and I pretend not to notice.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">You suffered through two root</div><div class="MsoNormal">canals so your hallowed fangs </div><div class="MsoNormal">would not show.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">This is how you cancel your past.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But if I </div><div class="MsoNormal">discover a coffin in the cellar,</div><div class="MsoNormal">or find you sleeping while</div><div class="MsoNormal">hanging upside down from the ceiling,</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I will regret not buying </div><div class="MsoNormal">garlic cloves or </div><div class="MsoNormal">rainbow carrots instead.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #444444;">-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444;">"<b>Lost Pepper</b>" and "<b>Roots of Evil</b>" <o:p></o:p></span>were </span><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18.48px;">published in <a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/2015/12/13/issue-12-table-of-contents/" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Issue 12 (Fall 2015)</a> of </span><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">local </span><a href="http://www.daytonohio.gov/Pages/default.aspx" style="color: #888888; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Dayton</a><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;"> journal</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18.48px;"> <i><a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Mock Turtle Zine</a><b>.</b></i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="line-height: 18px;" /><span style="line-height: 18px;">Past issues of </span><i style="line-height: 18px;">Mock Turtle</i><span style="line-height: 18px;"> can be viewed online.</span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span><span style="color: #444444;">Eric</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-18993858107767111272014-05-24T16:38:00.000-04:002017-03-03T08:52:17.003-05:00Overdue Poems<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>Poor Folk</b></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book on her nightstand <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
is by Dostoevsky, one of <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
his early novels. She <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
studied him in college,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
wrote a master’s thesis on <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The
Brothers Karamazov</i>, his final.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The main character works as a copyist, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
frequently belittled and picked on <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
by colleagues. His clothes <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
are worn and dirty. His<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
cousin is from the country.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He is in love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But a rich man <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
proposes. She slowly<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
becomes accustomed to money<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and leaves the copyist <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
alone. His plea goes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
unanswered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book goes <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
unfinished. She has lost momentum.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life happens too quickly. Two<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
full-time jobs leave no time<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for Russian novels, only <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Russian vodka.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="color: #7f7f7f;">-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>It Speaks</b></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
A book begins to
speak,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tells me how lonely
it is<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in dusty stacks, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
especially<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for a book of poems.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only poets <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
read poetry, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
unless <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for academic
assessment<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or love inspires a search
for clichés.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I take the poor
thing home,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
prove the truth it
speaks,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a poet <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
granting poetry</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
its only wish.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="color: #444444;">-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="color: #444444;">"<b>Poor Folks</b>" and "<b>It Speaks</b>" were published in <i><a href="http://www.wright.lib.oh.us/content/overdue-poems-celebration-libraries-reading-and-books">Overdue Poems</a></i>, a chapbook of work by members of the <a href="http://www.wright.lib.oh.us/content/wright-library-poets-starbucks-3">Wright Library Poets</a> in Celebration of
Libraries, Reading and Books, compiled and edited by Grace Curtis and Elizabeth
Schmidt and made possible by a grant from the <a href="http://www.wrightlibrary.org/wright-library-foundation">Wright Memorial Public Library Foundation</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Eric</span></div>
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">
<br /></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-58479376383720301392014-05-10T17:12:00.003-04:002022-04-09T12:27:09.293-04:00Educational Services, East Campus, Room 6
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">A shark with a broken tail</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
hangs from the ceiling <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
next to the crab with only one claw.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The students are also broken—<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
some have twisted bodies <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and shuffle sideways <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
through life's narrow hallways;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
others are like the shark <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
that will bite but cannot swim.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Teachers are torn <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
like chum in the open sea, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
so children can feed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some are food for others,<br />
bones discarded, unwanted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Few survive unscarred.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>-</b></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; mso-outline-level: 1; page-break-after: avoid;">"<b>Educational Services, East Campus, Room 6,</b>" along with "<b>Not Quite Emo,</b>"<b> </b>is <span style="font-family: inherit;">included in <a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/past-issues/issue-9-spring-2014-2/" target="_blank">Issue 9 (Spring 2014)</a> of <i><a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/" target="_blank">Mock Turtle Zine</a><b>.</b></i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"> These constitute my fifth contribution to this local <a href="http://www.daytonohio.gov/Pages/default.aspx">Dayton</a> journal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;">
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">My poem </span></span>"<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The Little Nun that Could</b></span>"<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> (which is included in my chapbook </span><i style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">The Good Parts</i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> (forthcoming from </span><a href="https://www.finishinglinepress.com/" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">Finishing Line Press</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">)),</span> is in <a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/past-issues/issue-8-winter-2013/" target="_blank">Issue 8 (Fall 2013)</a> and <span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">"</span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/past-issues/issue-7-spring-2013/#jp-carousel-1202"><b>All of a Sudden, but Not</b></a></span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">" wa</span></span><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">s published in the </span><a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/past-issues/issue-7-spring-2013/" target="_blank">Spring 2013 issue (#7)</a>. In addition, <span style="font-family: inherit;">"<a href="http://ericvblanchard.blogspot.com/2012/12/beware-of-poet.html" target="_blank"><b>Beware of Poet</b></a>" and "<a href="http://ericvblanchard.blogspot.com/2012/05/for-bees.html" target="_blank"><b>An <i>Ubi Sunt</i> for the Bees</b></a>" appeared in the <a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/past-issues/issue-6/" style="color: #888888; line-height: 18px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Fall 2012 issue (#6)</a><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;"> of </span><i style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">Mock Turtle</i><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">. </span><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">"</span><b>An <i>Ubi Sunt</i> for the Bees</b><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">" was originally included in </span><a href="http://mockturtlezine.com/past-issues/issue-5/" style="color: #888888; line-height: 18px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">issue #5</a><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">Issues of </span><i style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;">Mock Turtle</i><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;"> (including issues #5, #6, #7, #8, and #9) can be viewed online.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eric</span></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-144946944517907382013-11-26T17:24:00.002-05:002022-04-09T13:26:58.460-04:00Second-Hand Trickster
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Coyote the icon, the master. Coyote the student. Coyote the retired
horse thief, dropping breadcrumbs and scabs to guide his way home. Coyote the second-hand
trickster, finding a lump of coal under his pillow.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coyote the widower, caressing a dead woman’s hair, remembering the scent of her breasts, the tang of her thighs. Coyote crying into open palms
after <st1:time hour="0" minute="0" w:st="on">midnight</st1:time>. Coyote
waking in the morning, taking a shower, going to work in an office selling
insurance. Coyote the master. Coyote the slave.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"<b>Second-Hand Trickster,</b>" along with "<b>Ode to a Sidewalk</b>" were included in Issue 61 of <i><a href="http://www.puddingmagazine.com/" target="_blank">Pudding Magazine</a></i>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">This is my third contribution to "The Journal of Applied Poetry." </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">My poems </span><a href="http://ericvblanchard.blogspot.com/2012/09/three-poems.html" target="_blank">"<span style="font-weight: bold;">Frost on the Ocean</span>," "<span style="font-weight: bold;">Old No. 2</span>," and "<span style="font-weight: bold;">This Poem</span>"</a> were published in the Summer 2012 issue, and<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"> </span><a href="http://ericvblanchard.blogspot.com/2011/07/peter-pan-must-die-and-god.html" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px;">And God . . .</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">" and "</span><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px;">Peter Pan Must Die</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"</span></a> <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">were included in the </span>Summer 2011 issue<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-style: italic;">Pudding Magazine </span>is a hard-copy press. To get a copy of the any single issue or subscribe to the magazine, please go <a href="http://www.puddingmagazine.com/subscriptions" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric</div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-24567550209390428202013-10-09T17:21:00.000-04:002019-09-19T17:27:00.971-04:00Momma Dwarf . . . , Tracing Snowflakes<blockquote>
<strong><span style="font-family: inherit;">Momma Dwarf Has
Another Child</span></strong></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
As if being slapped around and<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
downgraded wasn’t enough, the “fat asteroid,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pluto, has another moon—<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
barely big enough to spin, yet<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
pulling weight around her momma’s<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
midriff. They have named her<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
S/2011 P1, but call her P4 for short.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(All the good family names were taken.) Caught<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
on spy camera playing<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
between her two closest siblings,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
nary a squeak.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She makes it a quartet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Portraits provided courtesy <o:p></o:p></div>
of Hubble Studios.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote>
<strong><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tracing Snowflakes</span></strong></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My wife is pregnant again, <o:p></o:p>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and I am watching her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">as she irons the coarse weaves of my cloak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am trying to write, feverishly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am Doctor Yuri Zhivago,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and I am in self-imposed exile,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">tracing snowflakes on the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am dreaming of Lara.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Bolsheviks have raided the city<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and have purged the souls of the people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The personal life is
dead in Russia.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>History has killed it.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have had my fill of bloodshed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have looked at death with wild eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am coming home to Tonya,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">to Lara—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am coming home. The key <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">is still where she left
it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: grey; font-family: inherit;">-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: grey; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: grey;">"</span><strong>Momma Dwarf Has Another Child</strong>" and "<strong>Tracing Snowflakes</strong>" were included in Issue #2 of <i><a href="http://www.vectorpress.org/" target="_blank">Vector Press</a></i>, a hard-copy poetry journal in its first year of publication.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eric</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]-->
<!--[endif]--></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-20149219231983531342013-06-18T09:35:00.003-04:002023-11-21T22:21:20.985-05:00No Longer I had to update my status today. <br /> I am no longer tied, in the social media, <br /> to your picture or timeline. The news <br /> was sudden again but not a surprise— <br /> a disappearing act I've grown used to. <br /> I do not assume some wicked intent. <br /> I am no longer paranoid. We still <br /> have each other in real time, in bed <br /> in the morning and before the light <br /> goes out at night, in the kitchen <br /> where we almost always make dinner <br /> together, and lunch is still worth <br /> eating late or early (or even quickly, <br /> if need be) so we can be face to face. <br /> I am not alone in some forest of <br /> falling trees with no one here to hear, <br /> no one to see me. I am no longer <br /> clinging only to tangible evidence <br /> of our relationship—the PDAs and <br /> risqué trysts in dark alleys. I have to <br /> believe that the bruises will fade, and <br /> we will remain “in a relationship,” <br /> even if “it is complicated.” I mean, really, <br /> what is a “domestic partnership” between <br /> a man and a woman anyway? <br /> <br /> - <br /> <br /> <br /> "No Longer" is included in the <a href="https://www.createspace.com/4326461">2012 Prize Winner Issue</a> of <a href="http://poetryquarterly.com/"><i>Poetry Quarterly</i></a>. An on-line preview of the issue can be viewed <a href="http://issuu.com/poetryquarterly/docs/binder1_b4222d819053ab">here</a>.<br /> <br /> On December 18, 2013, "<a href="http://wyso.org/post/conrads-corner-december-18-2013">No Longer</a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>" was read by Conrad Balliet on <a href="http://wyso.org/programs/conrads-corner">Conrad's Corner</a>, <a href="http://wyso.org/">WYSO 91.3 FM</a> as part of his local poets project. <br /> <br /> <br /> Eric
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6999316460801735252.post-6828907040562128722013-03-22T09:39:00.003-04:002018-02-17T05:21:40.070-05:00It is Spring <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day ends with rain falling on daffodils.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is spring and has been for weeks. The flowers<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
are no longer thirsty. The sky<br />
has cried on them and spat on them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They have been drenched for days,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but the colors are bright and the petals<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
are large, threatening to bend stems over<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and lie them gently on tall grass.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day ends with rain falling. It has<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
been falling for days. The colors <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
are rainbowesque, only<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
without the crystal spectrum<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of light from the hot sun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A drenching like Noah’s flood,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
almost half of the forty days down<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and counting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day ends with daffodils drowning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
two by two. The color of blood <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and the color of the lost sun swirl<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
around a drain. And the ancient oarsmen <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
call desperately. The day ends<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with rain and saturated flowers,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and colors blending into darkness,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and colors fading to black.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"<b>It is Spring</b>" was <a href="http://wyso.org/post/conrads-corner-march-21-2013" target="_blank">rea</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://wyso.org/post/conrads-corner-march-21-2013" target="_blank">d on March 21, 2013</a> and <a href="http://wyso.org/post/conrads-corner-june-5-2013" target="_blank">again on June 5, 2013</a>, by <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><a href="http://wyso.org/people/conrad-balliet" target="_blank">Conrad Balliet</a> on his radio segment, <a href="http://wyso.org/programs/conrads-corner" target="_blank">Conrad's Corner</a>, as part of his local Dayton poets project on </span></span><a href="http://wyso.org/" style="line-height: 17px;" target="_blank">WYSO 91.3 FM</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">Eric</span></span></div>
Eric Blanchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02940762236417695267noreply@blogger.com0