Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Day 213 of the 365 Days of Blogging

The author, Dane F. Baylis



Before we get into that, let's visit Ron Alexander, who appears in ASKEW POETRY JOURNAL, Issue #14. As I've said a couple of times already, Ron is a talent to be noted and a voice to be appreciated. So, without further elaboration:
 Ron Alexander
Photo by D.F. Baylis
                                                       MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER
                                            In last year's annual poetry workshop, Irene,
                                            the ashen woman in the floral caftan who sat
                                            in her own folding chair next to the door, said
                                            she could not listen to poems that were not rhymed,
                                            said she preferred villanelles but as long
                                            as a poem was at least rhymed, she would listen.
                                            To emphasize her point, she opened her purse
                                            and removed a stained meat cleaver, which she held
                                            in her lap for the rest of the day. We set
                                            a record for the most villanelles produced in a single day
                                            in the history of writing workshops, which only goes
                                            to show how a little helpful incentive can stimulate
                                            the creative process. This year, we have emailed
                                            Irene, telling her we look forward to her return.
I started this blog in October of last year because I saw so much out there about building a platform. Try finding one encompassing definition of that, or two guru's who can agree on one, and I'll send you a cookie. Ostensibly, this is how I'm supposed to be forming my presence in the literary world.
I intended to use this space as a promotional tool, a showcase of my talents, as a way to schmooze a path into your wallets. As I've said before, when it comes to matters of me, I find the entire subject a bit boring. Not that I can't "me" as ego-maniacally as the next schmuck with a soapbox, but I live with me. I see all the things I write in their various incarnations. I live with them, bleed through them, and at times get totally uninterested in them.
So, when it comes to posting my latest and greatest, I tend to forego that honor and work on finding other souls who I appreciate, and enjoy offering them the opportunity for a little extra exposure. Thus, the poets of ASKEW POETRY JOURNAL, other writer's columns, and articles on the craft and art of the word, etc. However, at a recent poetry event south of here, in the legendary enclave of MALIBU...(everyone face Charlie Sheen's house and bow three times), it was pointed out to me that I REALLY need to post more of my own work.
I asked why and that's when the flattering part came into it. Seems there have been a number of people at readings where I have abused the open mic, who have gone looking for something I read that night because they admired it. Okay, I get it, just because I live with what I write, the rest of the world doesn't. What, to me, can be an academic process of refining and clarifying, is for others something to be read and appreciated. I thank everyone of you, and, by way of showing my appreciation, I will post whatever gets read in public. Starting with tonight. Enjoy.
Dane F. Baylis
"This one's over the freakin' line!"
"Your ass is over the line!"
"So's your mother's."
"Hey! Don't be sayin' shit about someones mother!"
The rules were written
In sunshine blasted strips
Between the blocks
Of deep tenement shadows
In the side streets
Off the busy avenues
In clean white t-shirts
Stretched over hairless chests
In the sound of life
In the neighborhood.
"Hey, Diane! Those yours or d'they come with the sweater?"
"Screw you, Ricky!"
"I can only hope."
"Play the game, scumbag!"
Tight blue jeans
Filter tips
And a six pack of Bud'
Under the bushes
The sweet taste of
Impending manhood
Girls in knots
With slender tan legs
Dancing short skirts
Their smiles swirling
Noon sun on windshields.
"Hey, Angie! Dance at the K of C on Friday?"
"Can't do it, Sean."
"Your ol' man still pissed?"
"He's gonna kick your ass!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
In spray paint
On school yard pavement
In the hot sun
On rooftop tar
In the sweat of young bodies
In secret places.
In promises
And lies
And hidden tears
And dreams of getting
Out of here.
"John T. Devlin!"
"In a minute, Ma!"
"Right now, Young Man!"
"Throw the ball ya lame-o!"
All of it
Written in the sting
The palm buzzing vibration
Of a stick ball bat
Your heart racing
Chasing that half-ball
In a clean
Hard driven arch
Out over the freakin' line
Because your dreams
Of sports cars
And houses on the North Shore
Are out there
Beyond the second manhole cover
In the home run zone
And are alive in the brag
That hides the knowing
The not knowing
If it was you
Or just the way it was written 
In the rules
In the sunshine blasted strips
Between the blocks
Of deep tenement shadows
In the side streets
Off the busy avenues.
Any of my work I post here will be archived in the MY WORK/ MY LOVE Section of the blog, just as other writer's work is kept in the YOUR WORK/YOUR LOVE Section., love, write.
Want to follow or subscribe to this blog? There are gadgets for that on the right side of the page. You can leave comments in the form below. I can be reached directly at . You can also find links to some of the sites I visit from time to time on the right. I'm also looking for submissions to the Your Work/Your Love page. Authors retain all rights.
Dane F. Baylis

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