How It Got So Late So Late

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

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

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

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?

Words Whispered While Weeping Water-side

Whenever we, the unexacting uninitiated, pioneer grey techniques leading to many more, to much more, to ever more…
Whenever we, the uninitiated in the old, witchy ways of rotting, river hags, come to the water’s edge…
Whenever we dip our dry, dusty toes into her moving mouth of gritty tears and life determined to swim under pebbles…
Whenever we, the wet-toed, now, descend to our waists in the flowing baptismal, her chilly fingertips threaten…

We, whenever, swayed by liquid promises and fluid assurances.
We, whenever, wealthy and worn.
We, whenever, uninitiated ’til the end,
     emptied into a larger body.

Words Whispered While Weeping Water-side

Under What Conditions of An Absolute Reality

Kick DJs with specific needs to help all others in their own special work

PJ’d pawns get sold early down the road for last lost lonely wages

Censorship she was and she enjoyed it he said later on

Thanks to spending time together with our new family

All around an oval table covered in the Grey ash of incinerated loves

In the morning the tasks remain open boxes yet unchecked

In the afternoon the lunch bags glisten and goo begging sandwich

In the evening the screens aglow with sprites and horror many covered beds

In the house open parens

Of the Home closed parens

Kicked DJs ampersand

PJ’ed pawns period

Under What Conditions of An Absolute Reality

Experiencing a bug that changed the letter “i” to a series of unreadable symbols

In the hum-drum, unsung

If I️ was the time of your time,

If I️ was the tear of your tears,

If I️ was the glass of your house,

Then we could have forgotten chaos.

We could’ve had a sodium discharge.

We could, of course, been wishful asphyxiation

Unsung, hum-drummed.

Experiencing a bug that changed the letter “i” to a series of unreadable symbols