His name: the ultimate act of resistance (a poem)
Have a talk with the cat, will you?
(30 April 2017)
April 30th has arrived—which means this is the last day of my tax-relief sale (because I paid my taxes this month, and need some relief!) on Smashwords. All of my e-books are available for $1.99, in your choice of ePub or Kindle formats, through the end of the day (Pacific Time, I think). No coupon codes to enter—just click on the Buy with coupon button.
This includes my new book, This Is Not the Book That Will Save Your Life: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/717550
For the full list of available titles, click on this link (you may have to scroll down a bit): https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/kevinjoconner.
Thanks, and happy reading!
(30 April 2017)
My Day 30 poem for National Poetry Writing Month uses the prompt on Napowrimo.net—to write ‘a poem about something that happens again and again.’ Continue reading
Another bit of Skeltonic verse that I wrote on Day 28 of National Poetry Writing Month, after I had already posted my poem for the day. A problem I often have with poetry in print is that some poets format their work in such a way that the manner of presentation distracts me from the poem itself. One of the things that makes a poem unreadable for me is when a poet substitutes every occurrence of the word and with the ampersand (&). Though it may make sense in a title or a name, it looks horrible when used in text, suggesting either laziness or affectation.
This was my initial attempt at the Day 29 poem. I initially posted my second attempt because I felt this first one was too literal. Now that I look at it again, it really isn’t; it just lacks an emotional center (at least, for me it does). Continue reading
Well, at least the headache is gone…
(29 April 2017)
My Day 29 poem for National Poetry Writing Month uses the prompt on Napowrimo.net—which involves choosing a ‘very specific, concrete noun’ from a favorite poem, doing some free writing based on that word, then incorporating that all into a new poem. I chose to work from the word bones, which I drew from a poem by S. R. Mason, Dry skin, cold hands—I live in upside down houses and draw X’s on my tongue. Continue reading