New York Pitch Conference Reviews, Algonkian Writer Conferences, and Poetry Forums

You can't, and I can't. But you write like you and there are times I say the same thing about your writing.

Here’s a poem I like about Jesus: By Their Works Bob Hicok Who cleaned up the Last Supper? These would be my people. Maybe hung over, wanting desperately a better job, standing with rags in hand as the window beckons with hills of yellow grass. In Da Vinci, the blue robed apostle gesturing at Christ...

I guess we would always rather make him in our image rather than make ourselves in his image.

I really like shining like creek water; it grew on me. God, I know this sentiment.

Your poems often have such love and sweetness to them and lovely writing. I agree there is too much. It’s distracting. But, then, I’m such a minimalist; I could probably have a lot more details in my poems.

I like it, Bob, I think it all comes together smoothly. I have one nit that may be a misread, but why would everyone say N's idleness is well-earned if everyone said N was lazy for twenty five years.

Thanks Bob, will probably revise per your suggestions since you are the master of this type of writing.

Thanks Bob, Kenneth

Kenneth, I used meridian because it’s a term used in acupressure and acupuncture. There are meridians to your body.

Great little poem

no matter where i go there i am someone or many someones at various locations always somewhere near my location whether Arizona, Hawaii, Wyoming, the Netherlands, Iowa even Morroco have been impersonating me a Muslim guy said i looked exactly like a British tourist who visited the riad every winter...

Great, sad, and powerful story. I was married to an Arapaho woman on the Wind River Rez in Wyoming. I was a elementary school nurse for 600 Dine(Navajo) children in Arizona. They called me Mr. Nurse.

Yes, this is a good nom for June

Meridian Too-Far Her husband talks with a customer. I'm there to inquire about a Chinese remedy for indolence. Dance-like, she chooses leaves and pods from opaque jars labeled in characters I'm amazed anyone can decipher, blends with mortar and pestle. She takes my hand like young Miss Donahue, my ...

Thanks Bob, Michael, Kenneth

free spirit that's what he called me both of us bouncing in the bed of an old pickup the smell of manure swirling around us hitchhikers friends for a mile or so i grinned but didn't show it he was young didn't know the difference between a free spirit and a lost soul i guess i didn't either that wa...

I 2nd those noms, Michael.

Fairy tales and characters are such a great source for poetry. I should try one based on such. This one is excellent.

Lots of times I pick a topic or incident that attracts me then try to feel it and think of things that invoke those same feelings.

Yes, Bob, a treasure trove of words. I’ll have to look up some of them and then the long ago love lost too.

free spirit that's what he called me both of us bouncing in the bed of an old pickup the smell of manure swirling around us hitchhikers friends for a mile or so i grinned but didn't show it he was young didn't know the difference between a free spirit and a lost soul i guess i didn't either that wa...

Thanks for nom, I accept. Pursed Lips Nasal cannula in her nostrils tubing trailing down to the floor to a portable oxygenator beside her stool. She’s pulling the arm of the one-armed bandit at the Rosebud Reservation Casino as fast as she can drop tokens and pull with her atrophied, anorexic arms, ...

It has haiku syllable count of 5/7/5 but haiku do not have titles

Thanks Michael,that was by accident, my iPhone capitalized each new line and just left it. I’ll change it.

I like this haiku a lot, Frank, wouldn't change a thing.

I was hoping the poem was about love of life in the throes of end-of-life COPD.