Just a reminder, guys … if you care to keep track of my various poemy-type things or strange stories, you can always check my Future publication page right here at the blog. If somebody doesn’t keep tabs on me, I’m bound to get into trouble.
I hope you all are looking forward to a terrific Autumn!
I got some great news tonight — I’ll get to see my poetry featured in Scars Publications’ Down in the Dirt magazine for a third time. My poem “The Writer” will appear in the May 2020 issue.
The poem will also appear this week at the Scars website. (The publisher produces both Down in the Dirt and cc&d magazines.) Finally, “The Writer” might also be featured in future Down in the Dirt collections; the magazine regularly reprints selected poems in anthology format. (I was lucky enough last March to see my poem “hens staring upward” reprinted in The Flickering Light anthology following its initial publication.)
Thank you, Editor Janet Kuypers, for allowing me to join the range of talented voices that are regularly showcased by Down in the Dirt!
There is a thread on Twitter asking people to comment, “What’s the most GenX thing you did?” It’s a riot — check it out.
These are my responses:
- I brought a typewriter to my freshman year at Mary Washington College.
- I stood in line outside the registrar’s office to register for classes. I once had to camp out there overnight so that I could be first in line, because there was only one spot left in a course I really needed. My girlfriend brought me snacks.
- I walked to air-conditioned “computer pods” in a designated academic building when a computer was required to properly format term papers.
- I had a 5-disc CD player that could play songs at random, and I filled it with U2, Nirvana, Depeche Mode and Pearl Jam. I marveled at how cool this advanced technology made me.
- I wore a jean jacket.
- I wore fluorescent clothes and went to raves.
- I’ve watched every Kevin Smith movie at least twice.
This new mountain night
drains the waning day in violets.
Light declines to lilac, wine, pomegranate, black —
sunset over Roanoke.
(c) 2019 Eric Robert Nolan
— from W. H. Auden’s “The Sea and the Mirror”
Evening, grave, immense, and clear,
Overlooks our ship whose wake
Lingers undistorted on
Sea and silence; I look back
For the last time as the sun
Sets behind that island where
All our loves were altered: yes,
My prediction came to pass,
Yet I am not justified,
And I weep but not with pride.
Not in me the credit for
Words I uttered long ago
Whose glad meaning I betrayed;
Truths to-day admitted, owe
Nothing to the councilor
In whose booming eloquence
Honesty became untrue.
Am I not Gonzalo who
By his self-reflection made
Consolation an offence?
There was nothing to explain:
Had I trusted the Absurd
And straightforward note by note
Sung exactly what I heard,
Such immediate delight
Would have taken there and then
Our common welkin by surprise,
All would have begun to dance
Jigs of self-deliverance.
It was I prevented this,
Jealous of my native ear,
Mine the art which made the song
Sound ridiculous and wrong,
I whose interference broke
The gallop into jog-trot prose
And by speculation froze
Vision into an idea,
Irony into a joke,
Till I stood convicted of
Doubt and insufficient love.
Farewell, dear island of our wreck:
All have been restored to health,
All have seen the Commonwealth,
There is nothing to forgive.
Since a storm’s decision gave
His subjective passion back
To a meditative man,
Even reminiscence can
Comfort ambient troubles like
Some ruined tower by the sea
Whence boyhoods growing and afraid
Learn a formula they need
In solving their mortality,
Even rusting flesh can be
A simple locus now, a bell
The Already There can lay
Hands on if at any time
It should feel inclined to say
To the lonely – “Here I am,”
To the anxious – “All is well.”
I am grateful tonight to Editor Richard Edwards for publishing “The Writer” at Every Writer!
I’m quite happy that Mr. Edwards felt my poem might appeal to the readers of Every Writer — especially considering what an important resource Every Writer has been to the independent literature community since 1999.
You can find the poem right here:
“The Writer,” by Eric Robert Nolan
I’m honored tonight to share here that The Piker Press has graciously published my poem, “Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks.”
Once again, I’m indebted to Editor Sand Pilarski for allowing me to join the creative community of this wonderful weekly journal of arts and sciences.
You can find the poem at the link below:
“Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks,” by Eric Robert Nolan