Month: November 2017

How It Got So Late So Late

Jason Preu, , , Leave a comment

Considering that we were not interested in any other way,
we domesticated sheep, cows, dogs, fowl, swine, rabbits, and rodents.

Probably wisdom from the future holds a positive conclusion
but sock snacks should save sunscreen soaked skin spray.

Confirming that we are heading in an opposite direction…
ask them ahead about how well prophets can do it for profits
ask them ahead about the next few years
ask them ahead about digging up the time capsules and finding nothing but gang deaths and candidates;
nothing but good mornings and fun riots of blue-eyed luck.

How It Got So Late So Late

Purple Wizard Tales, Pt. 2: A Cover Like No Other

Jason Preu, , , Leave a comment

Have you seen the cover to More Poems About Purple Wizards and Neon-Bright Exceptionalisms? I mean, just look at it:

That’s a painting (by my wife), coupled with a drawing (by our daughter), that wraps around to the back where drawings (by our son) are sprinkled. The book has tons of art created by the rest of my family.

I love the cover. I love its over-saturation. I love its big, fat sun staring down a Purple Wizard. When I asked my daughter (8 when she drew it) to draw me a Purple Wizard she handed over an 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper with that image in one corner – and nothing else on the page. It’s like she knew her PurpWiz was destined to face something magnificent, yet heretofore unknown.

The title font was chosen by my editor, Jeannette “Super” Powers. She performed a number of magick acts surrounding Purple Wizards and choosing that title font, “Undercover,” was but one.

If you, dear reader, would like to run your soft, luscious fingertips up, down, and all over that cover and the pages it contains, pick up a copy here.

Purple Wizard Tales, Pt. 2: A Cover Like No Other

The Waterwood Box, 82

Jason Preu, , , , , Leave a comment

Catch up!

Ahead in the distance Adam noticed a break in the grid. The manta turned and swam towards this clearing. Adam saw that the clearing was actually a large, rock shelf that stretched out over a shallow basin. The tight grid of coral hovels resumed on the other side of the basin.

The manta stopped directly above the clearing and the urchins up top signaled the net’s release. The thick, dark ropes tumbled downward and the net, along with everyone in it, drifted downward. Adam, Ramata, and Spot climbed out of the top and swam down to the clearing.

While the net full of urchins touched down, Adam took in the immensity of his surroundings. This was indeed a complex. Building after drab building as far as the eye could see and in every possible direction. Adam then heard some scuffling behind him. He turned to see a pile of urchins forming around Ramata and Spot. The urchins rolled up each other’s backs to form walls to separate the three friends.

Adam heard Ramata cry out once, but only once. He didn’t hear any noise at all from Spot. Adam himself was soon enclosed within a dark shell of living urchins. A shaft of light then broke through the walls, then another, and another as Adam’s urchin cell began to dismantle itself. By the time Adam could again see around, most of the urchins that had been on the clearing were nowhere to be seen. He watched the few stragglers roll off down the tight streets – maybe they were headed home. Only one urchin remained on the clearing with Adam, Admiral Pinch.

“Where are my friends?”

“Safe. Away, away.”

Adam clenched his fists. “What have you done with them?”

“These are the King’s orders: ‘Leave the child, take the other two.’ I don’t question my King.”

“I have a question for your King.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yes, I must ask him something.”

“Then, by all means, you should ask her.” Admiral Pinch barked then rolled away from the shelf lip, his spikes twitching with laughter.

“Her?” Adam asked.

Pinch, with shrill excitement, replied, “Yes, child. I present to you, for all your precious questioning, Her Royal Wetness, the Lady King Altern.”

The Waterwood Box, 82

The Waterwood Box, 81

Jason Preu, , , , , Leave a comment

Catch up!

Chapter 18
A Complex Of Strict Arrangments

The urchins chattered and chittered at Adam’s bold behavior. Pinch himself seemed unsure of how to respond. “Uh…very well then,” Pinch finally managed to chirp out. He then barked so loudly that everyone jumped, Adam included. A few seconds later, a group of urchins left on-board the manta let down a large, weighted net. The urchins at the bottom rolled away to allow for the net to spread out completely as it came to rest.

When the net settled, the urchins rolled onto it, fighting each other for space while rolling on top of one another. Once the entire mess of urchins squeezed together, Pinch turned to the three and asked, “To Altern?”

Ramata hesitated. Adam said to the water-folk, “It’s the only way.” After some hesitation, Ramata followed Adam into the milling mass. Spot was close behind. Pinch then barked again, abrupt and loud enough to frighten the three outsiders.

The manta took off at a slow pace. Immediately, the net curled up around them all, jostling the urchins about while they chattered and chittered and cursed each other’s presence. Adam, Ramata, and Spot were the lucky ones in this situation. Because they could swim, they could stay close to the top of the closed net and away from the pile of urchins that collected at the net’s bottom. Glad for a chance to rest after their long journey, Adam grabbed the netting and held tight, letting the water rush past him as the manta carried them to where, despite the obvious dangers, he hoped to do what he could to get back home.

The manta swam over row upon row of the urchins’ coral hovels. Adam wondered how many there were, spread out below, surrounding Altern’s complex. At first, the hovels were spaced at regular intervals, perhaps a few hundred yards between them. As they approached their destination, however, the hovels had less and less space between them. Soon, the manta swam over nothing but hovels, all perfectly lined up with just enough space between them to let a single urchin roll through. “This is huge…how many do you think there are?” Adam asked Spot.

“Too many, Adam,” Spot said. “Far too many.”

The Waterwood Box, 81

Purple Wizard Tales, Part 1: Whence Comes the Wizard?

Jason Preu, , , , Leave a comment

More Poems About Purple Wizards and Our Neon-Bright Exceptionalisms is, first and foremost, a book of collected poetry. It’s also, however, an exercise in book design and, for some, an entry to participate in The Game of Poems. In an effort to promote the book and decompress a bit from putting it together, I thought I’d do a short series of posts about its origin story.

The collection began, as most collections do, when its mommy collection and its daddy collection met, fell in love and kissed. Then, 10 months later – POOF! – a little purple wizard was born.And the purple wizard was a sweet, little toddler and a charming young person and a moody adolescent and an inquisitive young adult and a stressed-out grown-up and a collector of facts and incantations and aphorisms and finally the wizened purple-spirited book appearing before you today.

Purple Wizards, as a concept, began with the poem “Royal and Wrinkled with Age”, though that’s the poem that winds up now closing the collection. That poem has a line, “The Purple Wizard stands on a barren hillside / facing the rising sun,” that worked its way into the book cover collage (which I’ll talk about in a subsequent Purple Wizard Tale). I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of the wise, old person, persnickety yet divine, seemingly frail but truly full of fire. The book itself may or may not be concerned with that fascination but, nevertheless, I do hope we all grow to become Purple Wizards in our own right.

If you’d like to read more about Purple Wizards – and our neon-bright exceptionalisms – I wrote a book about ’em! You can buy it here.

Purple Wizard Tales, Part 1: Whence Comes the Wizard?

The Waterwood Box, 80

Jason Preu, , , , , , Leave a comment

Catch up!

In the distance, Adam could already see a manta coming their way. Admiral Pinch and the Urchin Army were no doubt atop the manta, delighted at the prospect of handing over such vile trespassers to King Altern.

“Look, Spot, seem familiar?” Adam directed Spot’s attention to the manta.

Spot sighed. “Our old friend, Admiral Pinch.”

The manta stopped a good distance above the three travelers. Adam, Ramata, and Spot looked up at the manta’s underside. Urchins dropped off the manta, at first one-by-one, then they plummeted in droves, slowly sinking to Ocean’s floor, landing on top of each other, and rolling around to claim a spot of individual space.

Soon, the urchins covered all the seabed around, where they chattered and barked amongst themselves.

“We could still swim for it,” said Adam. “These things can’t follow.” Wide-eyed and nervous, Ramata looked with hope at Adam. The water-folk turned to Spot.

“We’ll be fine here,” Spot said. Hope drained from Ramata’s face.

The last few urchins dropped off the manta like paratroopers without any chutes. On Ocean’s floor, one urchin among the many rolled its way to a front-most position. The other urchins quieted.

“And I thought taking you home would be the last I saw of you,” chittered Admiral Pinch.

“Well, Admiral, as a wise Turtle once told me, ‘That’s what you get for thinking.’” Adam said with a smile.

“Snarky, water-man. You may be certain that Altern will fix that part of you.”

“Good, good,” Adam said with no hesitation. Ramata and Spot looked at each other, unnerved by the cool, even tone in Adam’s voice. “I hope you take us to the King soon. That’s why we’re here, after all.” Ramata smacked Adam on the shoulder but he refused to acknowledge it and went on with his steady-handed charade. “Are we ready to go? Don’t you think you’ve kept us waiting long enough?” Even Adam was surprised at his confidence and surety. He knew answers were close.

“I warned you once, child, about your impudence. Don’t-”

“Admiral, take us to King Altern or leave us be to find the King ourselves. There will be no more talking.”

The Waterwood Box, 80

The Waterwood Box, 79

Jason Preu, , , , , , Leave a comment

Catch up!

“Ugh! Urchins.” Ramata looked unsettled. No sooner did the water-folk get out the words then the eel from inside the hovel swam out. It took off along Ocean’s floor, rapidly undulating its way along a path towards the next hut. The three of them watched as the eel entered the next hut and then it, plus another eel, exited. One eel continued straight ahead while the other eel slithered towards the hut to its left.

“What’re they doing?”

Spot answered, “Raising an alarm!”

“We’ve got to hide!” Ramata said. “Adam, you’ve got your wish. We’ll be at Altern’s complex soon enough!”

Adam tried to calm her down. “Please, don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry? I’m so far away from where I’m supposed to be!”

“What the worst that King Altern could do? Send you back to Tiskaloo?

“Eh, nopes! The King will probablies kill yins!” The two urchins from the hut below had rolled out to see what was going on above. “All yins, water-folk. Everyones knows water-folk’s not allowed outsides the Tiskaloo.”

“I’m not a-,” Adam stopped himself from telling the urchin that he wasn’t Tiskaloon. If Altern did plan to kill water-folk, better Adam was with Ramata than not. Together they might be able to escape.

“Notta whats, you filthy cuss?”

“Not afraid of King Altern!”

The urchin barked a short laughed and said, “Dumbs and uglies,” then rolled back inside the hut. The other urchin just sat there, staring, not saying anything.

Adam didn’t want to put his friends in any further danger, “Should we run?”

“Yins can’ts just gets outta the here, briny half-breed,” came the urchin’s voice from inside. “Words is out. Yins the here and that’s the thats. Alls the outposts know yins here. Unless yins wants to be tortured and maimed before yins killed, smarter to stays right the there.”

Ramata gasped and Adam joked, “More waiting, Ramata. Like every other thing we’ve done so far.”

“Adam, how can you joke now? This is dangerous.”

“My school says, ‘Life is danger.’ We’re in no more danger now than if we tried to run.”

“AH! Stupid fish talks smarts. Must helps to bes in schools that tells yins how to thinks. S’okeys, thoughs. I’m justs teasing yins. Altern real nices. Yins’ll sees. Everybody maybe lives a little longer.”

The Waterwood Box, 79