Major word on 101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS

I have just finished reviewing an email I got from the poet, in which he gave me the master list of all poems to appear in his forthcoming volume

101 Great Erotic Poems

I am sure there will be tweaks. What I find remarkable is the number of works (marked with an asterisk*) that are previously unpublished works. Some I have not even been privy to.

Seriously, he sent me, under pain of death not to share, the new cycle "Bacchante" and I have to admit...I'm thunderstruck. It is like he let his sexual side grab the car keys and take the Lamborghini for a quick spin off a twisty mountain road...he's playing with fire. But I am happy to report it is the very best of fires he is playing with.

Here's the master list:

a language without words I heard*
a summoned fire (pink jade)
a trick with mirrors*
An Angel Spreads Her Wings*
angel in a darkened room*
as I slide into you
Bacchante: Baptism*
Bacchante: Confession*
Bacchante: Healing*
Bacchante: One Flesh*
Bacchante: Ordained*
Bacchante: Penance*
Bacchante: Sacrament*
bare skin on linen
bartering ram* (yes, that is how he meant to spell it)
base sacraments
blossoms of the wind
cool night air on bare flesh*
Courtesan: Ascendor*
Courtesan: Contender*
Courtesan: Defender*
Courtesan: Pretender*
Courtesan: Surrender*
Courtesan: The Splendor*
Courtesan: The Tender*
dark flirtation
feel the light kinetic*
Feeling You Cry Out*
feral with desire
feralities
flint to my steel
follow with your legs
fragrance of your flesh: frankincense*
fragrance of your flesh: honeysuckle*
fragrance of your flesh: jasmine*
fragrance of your flesh: musk at dusk*
fragrance of your flesh: myrrh*
fragrance of your flesh: rose petals*
fragrance of your flesh: sandalwood*
genii
Genitalia*
how would you have me touch you?
I will feed*
if your husband comes home
Impale Yourself*
jasmine and plumeria
kiss not the sky
lust bunnies
nectar
one kiss to last forever*
open, you to me
passion sympoetique
passion, play
penetralia: a penitent lover
penetralia: a trick of the light
penetralia: Odin
penetralia: penetralia
penetralia: roses
penetralia: summoner
penetralia: time and space
playing with dark fire*
Possession
Return to the Goddess’ Bed
Satyr in Love
seduction
Seeds of Love
Sex Cookies
Shall I take You, Unaware?*
she dances away when I awake
So Dark*
soft as dawn (pink jade)
Spread to My Pleasure*
Spreading Your Wings
swerve (flirt)
taste you on my lips*
teaching me*
the joint of your hip*
the lover
the priest of passion serves the sacrament
The Sacrament of Passion*
The Satyr’s Suit
the taste of remembrance
the texture of your tongue*
Throbbing*
tip for tap
toasting with the warm wine*
Twitch Like a Bitch*
urgent heat
Vignette: Delicati*
Vignette: Red Sheets and Black Light*
Vignette: Relentless Kisses*
Vignette: Shhhhhh*
Vignette: Silk Scarves*
Vignette: Third Person, Singular*
Vignette: Unleashed*
warm breath stirs soft flesh
when roars the demon*
Wine
word of release*
writhe*
Zephyr

I count four (4) new cycles: Bacchante, Vignette, Frangrance of Your Flesh and Courtesan. It looks like he is taking this all the way this time.

May God have mercy on our sanity.

sorbet

perhaps what I need is a sorbet.
or perhaps I have already had one.
I wish I knew.
but I will know, one day,
whether the lemon ice was a course
or just a cleansing of the palate
lingered over too long.
experience and history yet unwritten
will tell me the truth.
depending on others for
such a revelation
is an invitation
to be lied to.
especially
in regards to
sorbet.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

confirming contents and some passionate echoes

I have been up now for several hours. And when I'm up, I'm up.

So I have been working on both of this year's releases, 101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS and the ever popular RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE...and here's some word.

I will confirm the following twenty works being amongst the 101 in 101GEP:

*warm breath stirs soft flesh (you already knew of this one)
*a summoned fire
*as I slide into you
*feral with desire
*genii
*feralities
*follow with your legs
*how would you have me touch you?
*kiss not the sky
*lust bunnies
*open, you to me
*passion sympoetique (yes, I know, technically 3 poems, but I am counting them as 1)
*passion, play
*seduction
*the lover
*the priest of passion serves the sacrament
*urgent heat
*the taste of remembrance
*she dances away when I awake
*flint to my steel

I can also confirm that "Love is an Howling Beast" will appear in RONIN...

as well as the following work, entitled "Passionate Echoes"

At the edge of the sedge, withered,
or up upon my Damoclesian ledge, weathered
whims and feathered and leathered wings
furl and curl and give themselves to surly
kindness unrevoked and unprovoked.
The charity of love. Abstract to the plainsong
people who hum and thrum and play chum
to the sharks parking in the slipstreams
to fill their gills with a spider's hunt,
laying in wait. Fate that plays each card
like a Tarot gambler, wands for cups.

And I hear your voice, a blistered whisper
in a cathedral cut into the face of the cliffs,
the face of my cliffs, ancient stone displaced
for your esteem, for the redemption you...
represented. At least in a case of mistaken identity.
The plenty horn, the sentry's scorn and
the fiddler's riddle, melodies played for purpose,
where the dread dead bled in a bed spread
before them like a croupier's domain,
where you can still hear my voice, if you listen.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

night night

seriously surreal evening.

seriously.

Went to the Monongalia Arts Center for a free CD release concert party for the Wilson-Tay-Wilson jazz trio. Tag was there, a few people I know marginally, including that one woman who was at the David Selby the other evening and never stopped scowling at me. Did I once date a daughter of hers? What?

A woman came up to me and spoke my name. I recognized her instantly. Pam, an old friend from school, whom I do not believe I had seen since the ten years high school reunion...aeons ago. We talked for a bit, exchanging life stories. I met her husband. It was a pleasant encounter.

I stuck around for all but the final set of the concert, then bought a CD, got in my car and headed for Barnes & Noble...my usual hangout. But halfway there a great emotional fatigue settled upon me and I headed home. I know my moods, and this one begs rest and withdrawal from the world for a moment.

I know what triggered it, even.

One of the numbers performed at the concert - "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans"...

it reminds me of the year I spent in Southern Mississippi, just an hour from the Big Easy and the friends and loved ones I left behind down there. I wish things had worked out better for all concerned, but in the end people choose their own paths. I can say no more without ticking off people who believe that reinvention is better than repentence.

Now, to bed. Early, but an earned rest and respite. The dragons will wait until I rise tomorrow, to slay them again...

opening lines for a new poem

I want a wanton
something feral at my own peril
not sterile of passion and desire
the higher the fire the purer the myrrh.

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

note this is a just a fragment...

current working title: attar with no wilt, to the hilt

The Podcast about Gertrude Stein is UP!

The show is up, thanks again to Archive.org...

Radio City of Legends

I read several of Gertrude Stein's works and give a short sketch of this seminal American poet. A good and educational time is guaranteed for all.

Irene McKinney, WDTV and 101 Great Erotic Poems

Good turnout for the Irene McInney reading at B&N. The West Virginia Poet Laureate was marvelous, as always...and the turnout was respectable for a Saturday morning. A guy from a local TV station (WDTV, Channel 5) came and video taped part of her presentation, I was certain to stay behind him. I don't like being in crowd scenes. I begrudgingly accept shots of me as a headliner...when I don't have to be the star, I don't appear. Interviews are bruising. Taped readings are like innoculations with dirty, rusty needles.

Tag was there, showing off his new book to the CRM (Chanda Willard, whom I also gently chided for not getting TV coverage of my visit last week or David Selby, earlier this week), and to James Harms, the gentleman responsible for the Creative Writing program at WVU. They seemed appropriately impressed (Hey, I designed the cover).

Before the read I had the opportunity to talk with the esteemed Ms. McInney about poetry, mortality, the Mountain State and the rather fluttery relationship between the literary arts and the mass media. She offered some real insights completely in keeping with my worldview. She asked me if I had been at David and Elkins College (from whose website I stole the picture of the poet)a few weeks ago, for a reading, as she had heard that I had been. I told her that not one college, university, high school, trade school or kindergarten in the Mountain State had approached me for a reading this year and the invites I did get were just not logistically practical (California, with gas prices as high as they are, will have to wait for my visit for my daughter's wedding in September). She was rather, it seemed, disappointed (she, I and Maggie Anderson are the three living poets listed in the AEI's tribute "Art&Soul"). I shrugged.

Chanda asked me about the status of 101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS and when it would be out (she seems anxious to have a reading when it hits...I told her I want a royalty on condom sales...) and also approached me about my headlining a poetry night for next year's Valentine's Day. I promised that if I was in the area still, no problem...otherwise, I'd still make sure I was there for it.

I also gave Ms. McKinney a signed copy of THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES, as she had been asking me about that volume before she took the stage...she had seen it and wanted more information on the novel length poetry collection.

As I write this I am waiting for the final incubation processing on tonight's podcast. I find when I am smitten (no names and certainly no totem, yet), the best thing for me is to multitask until my brainpan collapses. I will post word when the show is up. If I don't...I have either died or been kidnapped by some wanton. 'Bout damn time.

sneak at Ronin cover

Hey, peoples. While Captain Happy is out, rediscovering the joys of testosterone, I thought I'd sneak you a peak at an early draft of the cover for RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE.

Pretty nice, hm? Stark, mysterious, sexy.

Well, I have a life, as well...just thought I'd tell you where his head is right now.

a little me time

Einstein was right - speak to a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a second. I had that experience today...and, driving home, I smiled. No, a real smile. A face-swallowing, jaw bending, cheek twisting smile.

It wasn't directly invoked by meeting her, but indirectly. Nevertheless, the word "smitten" did come to mind, to describe my state and status. I feel like a man, waking up after a long nap, slowly becoming aware of the scent of grilling meat and hot bread.

Hey, I am still alive. The premature burial that has been attempted on me by so many, some for their own purposes, some as a side effect of their actions, has failed. The clock still withholds its judgement.

I'm going to grab a shower and head to B&N to write. I have two books to complete and a podcast to wrap this very evening, but I deserve a little me time.

Raging in a cage with the God of Sex

Talking with David Selby last night it was reasuring that I am not the only author who works multiple projects at the same time...I actually find it therapeutic to do so, as focusing on one project locks me into a specific space, where I actually can begin to resent the material I am working with and also become too involved with the theme and mood of the works.

As I am actively working on two books at once (101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS and RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE) with different worldviews, I can adapt my shedule to work on whichever volume best suits me and my mood. The former is sexual, aggressive and definitely a monster from my id, albeit a playful one. It indulges the Valmont in me, the Valentino, a subtler aspect of me that Brigit once referred to as the God of Sex. The latter is moody, Byronic, from the dark and wounded recesses of the soul, a lamentation instead of a celebration. A Jeremiad. Resolve tinged with self-rage and even bitterness (Psyche once predicted my eventual descent into bitterness...she was wrong, both as to what would wound me in time and whether I would fall into that crevasse. I am fine, but I have my wounds to cleanse),

It is good to be working on a schedule that begs 101GEP first, as the upbeat side of that (do I need to do research? Oh, I wish I was in LA again, the research I could be up to!) will keep me out of the pits. I will need the helium and Helios of the former to sustain me as a I work the moodier aspects of the latter. Tag says he thinks RONIN... will be as large as THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES and a masterpiece. He's probably right, but the man is not looking forward to the shapes he will have to bend himself into to produce a worthy collection.

TCPC damn near killed me. It was an historical document, in some manner. RONIN... will be more an examination of disillusionment and duty in the present and future tenses. As such, this is going to be a great year for me, creatively, in some ways even better than last year, which is already one for the legends.

Just not an easy or gentle one.

a good evening for making connections

Just got back in from a pleasant evening...I went to hear author/actor David Selby, one of my fellow AEI "Art & Soul" honorees reading from his works at the local Barnes&Noble. It was a blast, and we had a nice visit (I gave him a copy of THE MORGANTOWN SUITE POEMS, he gave me a copy of MY MOTHER'S AUTUMN)...and he signed his page in my copy of the Appalachian Education Initiative's book.

As two of the three surviving Morgantown High School graduates (Don Knotts passed away a few months ago) along with the great Lawrence Kasdan, it was inevitable we'd cross paths, and I decided it was time we met. Great guy. The "Falcon Crest" and "Dark Shadows" actor was engaging, literate and eloquent (actors who write present their material well...no doubt) but I also have to say, the man can write and I would recommend his books to anyone.

Perhaps, after you buy ALL of my books, and then Dan McTaggart's MIDNIGHT MUSE... and Mari Laureano's erotic tour de force THE FAIRYTALE JOURNALS, you should invest in this man's work. He writes from the heart and expresses himself beautifully. My only problem was, after the reading, I was all the more homesick for Los Angeles...

I also got to meet two thirds of the The Wilson - Tay - Wilson Trio, who are having a CD release party Saturday Night at the Monongalia Arts Center, flutist/vocalist Jenny Wilson and bassist Nathan Wilson. I'll be going to the party, especially after Nathan and I had a very focused discussion on the necessity for "local artists" to begin synergizing more. If you're in the area, drop by...free eats and good music. That's Saturday, April 29th, at 7pm at the MAC in Morgantown, WV.

The winds of an old rage shall yet drive me east

there are days when one feels like Keanu Reeves in "The Matrix"...where things suddenly make sense in a beautiful and horrific way, pieces falling into place.

back in the eigthies, I wrote a poem called "Horizon"...over the years it has been dissected and deconstructed more than once, remade as not an expession of hope, but as a prophecy of my life. Like most prophecies, only being obvious in the time when it is fulfilled...

"There was a season when I was stronger" is how it opens. Is it a statement of times now past or times yet to come? Is it wistfully examining my youth or from somewhere out in the future, recalling me before...what?

"When days lasted longer and winds filled my sails." A further description of the lost times. Days lasted longer? A reference to the summer of life, or to a loss of vitality? And the winds...referring to my own vitality, or external motive forces? I wish I knew.

"There was a reason for loves trial and errors..." I have always marvelled at this, as it never tells me that reason...

"Ghosts in the mirror were yesterday's tales." I understand this, now. Those whom have mattered to me are now no longer real, but just stories, some of them unbelievable to even me, and I lived them. They are ghosts, able to affect me and others only to the degree we perceive thm and believe them.

"The winds now are memory.
Hope and illusion.
Pain and confusion inherit my gold." Are hope and illusion synonyms or diametrically opposed forces? The pain and confusion inheriting my gold I am certain could be placed to my first divorce, where I bought my freedom at a terrible price.

"But I, I shall live on
the crusts stained with jelly,
filling my belly with morsels and mould." Determination and resignation. I will find what I need in what I already have, though I will never again be wealthy.

"There is yet a season,
with dragons returning,
the fires yet burning shall lift to the skies." What defines a season in this work? A period of similarity? A decade? What? I do not know. Was this about my return to the East Coast, or my return to California, or something else? Does this portend the Phoenix?

"There must be a reason
to seek the horizons.
To sail for the islands with unclouded eyes." Is this an emphatic statement, demanding a motive, or something more earnest? A seeking of motive? Am I saying to stay where I am until there is purpose to move?

"My sails are of iron. The sun is my shepherd." I follow the sun...and I am not thrown down, torn up, enfeebled by the voyage.

"And I am the leopard.
The lion. The beast." I am the leopard? Was the leopard just a shadow box in which I saw what I needed to fulfill what I wanted? Am I the real leopard? I am the lion. And a leopard? The beast? As in the Anti-Christ? As a generic creature? What sort of monster?

"Alone at the tiller. I seek no more portage." I have given up finding a home. I have surrended my illusions of romance to the solitary way.

"The winds of an old rage
shall yet drive me east." I will find the winds and they will take me East. Was this my move to Mississippi, to West Virginia, or something yet to come? Why is the 'east' not capitalized?

I hate having to analyze this stuff. I just know I am adrift at this time, without breath or rudder.

a quick recap before facing the new day

Had a pleasant evening at B&N...Tag came by and we discussed future book plans. He wouldn't have shown up if I hadn't called him and let him know his favourite clerk was working...he is terribly fond of this Amazonian blonde. They're all too young for me, but I do have a favourite there.

We have started talking about doing a small, joint project to be used as a marketing tool, but mostly we blathered on about our next few individual project: He's got in mind a book of poems about diners...it is a favourite topic of his and he has some great pieces from different slants. It might make a very fun book.

Me, I'm concentrating on 101GEP and RONIN...

Didn't hear back from my friend who was supposed to call yesterday...the mother hen in me presumes something awful has happened to her, the person who has lived as long as I have assumes she'll call when she is in the mood. God, I've dealt with some flaky souls in this life...she wouldn't even make the top twenty list of flakes.

Worked a bit on the podcast for this week (recall, this is my tribute week to Gertrude Stein) while Amrican Idol was on in the background. So as not to disappoint my dear Karla, I have to know Taylor's status...glad to see him still around. Something about us quirky, grey-haired over-achievers needing to stick together.

a renewal of life

I am weary, which leaves me many options...I never count on only one coping mechanism for any mood.

I have decided to...reinvigorate myself. So I will shower, shave, and head over to B&N to read and flirt. If those I am waiting to hear from contact me, fab. If not, I am not sitting around with my thunb up my butt, waiting for them.

Before I do all of this, I would offer a single, black rose to my dear friend, the Selke, who has chosen to walk her own path. I respect her decision and wish her nothing but happiness. Mine is not the only road, it is just my only road. I have, too often, left my path to aid others and be with others and neglected my purpose. While well-intentioned, it has been well-intentioned folly and grievous have I paid for this. I accept your exit with respectful grace.

Be well, child, and find peace and joy.

The Morning Mists Fade and the Path is Made Clear

I had a nice dinner last evening with Daniel S. McTaggart's family, to thank me for my part in his book MIDNIGHT MUSE IN A CONVENIENCE STORE, which will be coming to bookstores and onlne retailers in the next few weeks. I had a good time, ate too much, and was able to flirt with a lovely server (I am still more comfortable with the terms "waitress" and "waiter"..."server" just seems like one of those PC awkwardisms...) who was working her first table. I informed Tag that she was too young for me, but I would be happy to recommend him to her.

He gave that long-sufering grimace that passes for a smile when he is underwhelmed at my generosity.

I then received a call from a friend I have been circumspectly courting (if you've ever seen me trying to navigate the waters of making my interest known to a woman, it is a truly pathetic, but courtly, thing. I have been both burned and scorched, smacked down and torched, by those whom either I misread or whom made sport of my intentions, that I tread softly, like a blind man in a bramble patch, never fully trusting any sensory information. (The legend persists, and is true, of a female friend who grew weary of my slow pace and one day asked for my hand, took it and placed it under her blouse, on her breast, and said "Is that obvious enough for you?" Well, yes, it was. And it was and is a perfectly lovely breast, I think I wrote several sonnets about it. Later. I was...to quote Ani DiFranco..."distracted" for a while. One must do in depth research to write good romantic and erotic poetry. Sigh.)

Got a "Dear John" email last night from a dear friend I have known for years and who had expressed, for some time, a desire to take the relationship to a more plutonic level. As she is a continent away, and married, I am satisfied with her withdrawal and her purpose, and even praised her integrity and candor. Yes, some aspects of me are disappointed, but not in her. Few people have ever disappointed me. Having been through some of the things I have been through with friends and lovers, I have learned to not judge people for my expectations, assumptions and perceptions. It was a hard-learned lesson, but essential to my survival in a world that is full of smug liars and rationalizers. That list includes me, alas, on occasion.

So, now, to quote the title of one of my favourite poems, "The Morning Mists Fade and the Path is Made Clear"...


draw tight the cloak of night and wear the moon, eternal,
as an halo, sainthood now sent as a refusal
to take illumination as the word unspoken.
gospel revelation of the cool curve unbroken
by the penetration of shame into the sphere where
all things taken as chance become the untamed night's mare.
ridden to the edge of a world promised to lovers,
sworn as reward for quests mastered within the layers
laid down so that buried pride may yet rise, triumphant,
and lay the road to the city, perfect and ancient.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
from the book FROM AN UNEXPECTED QUARTER
ISBN 0-595-00231-5

I love it when I read a piece of mine writ a few years ago resonates with a moment in my life now.

Titles in the era of SNAKES ON A PLANE

So, all the summer movie buzz is targeting SNAKES ON A PLANE, with an incredible free media buy-in owing to the reaction of the "in" crowds to the concept and the title.

We all know how essential the right name for a movie is...would PRETTY WOMAN have been such a success if it had retained its original title, 3000 DOLLARS? I don't think so. The title sets an expectation, a focus, a subtext for what the consumer sees or hears next.

E.J. was dead on perfect when he encouraged me to put out a book of poetry with the word "poetry" or "poems" in the title, more as an experiment than anything else. 101 GREAT LOVE POEMS has been my most reliable selling book, although thanks to the x-factor, THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES has leapfrogged it in some markets.

But, thinking about SNAKES ON A PLANE, how wonderfully inobtuse that title is...imagine if other films used such logic in their naming, that purity of synopsism:

TITANIC would have been LOVERS ON SINKING SHIP

BASIC INSTINCT would have been SHARON STONE HAVING SEX

PRETTY WOMAN should have been called NICE HOOKER MEETS RICH GUY

ET would have been KIDS MEET HARMLESS MAGIC ALIEN AND SEND HIM HOME (Why is it in Spielberg movies all aliens, and even people who have been in prolonged contact with them, are required to develop superhuman powers that transcend the laws of physics? Aren't we setting ourselves up for a letdown when we do actually meet aliens? "What do you mean you can't freeze time, teleport or fly?")

Of course, using E.J.'s logic, the actual title should include the name "movie" or even a genre description, so

TITANIC would have actually been LOVERS ON SINKING SHIP TEARJERKER MOVIE

and who wouldn't want to see the classic

FUNNY CHICK FLICK WITH HAPPY ENDING instead of WHEN HARRY MET SALLY?

Maybe we're onto something here? Me, I am going to see SNAKES ON A PLANE when it hits, two days after my birthday. Why? Not for the title...I just love watching Samuel L. Jackson bring the fury...this movie could and should be this year's BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, an unexpectedly huge money movie with cultural impact (I hear they are right now reshooting some scenes to use saltier language to take fuller advantage of Mr. Jackson's image and raise the rating from a PG-13 to an R).

Me, I have to go work on my new book...101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS. I think that title is clear enough, although you never know...maybe 101 POEMS TO MAKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND WANT SEX would be clearer? Hmmmm....

"Warm Breath" makes it between the covers of 101GEP

I have been asked to give a sample of an archetypal piece from 101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS...and the piece that immediately leapt to mind was "warm breath stirs soft flesh"...if you've ever read the critical response to this piece when I first posted it to Authors Den a few years ago(July 5, 2003), you'll know that this is an excellent benchmark work for this project.

here's the poem, followed by some of the comments it has accumulated over the years:

Warm Breath Stirs Soft Flesh

warm breath stirs soft flesh and feathery hairs
disused to such sensations, embers stirred
from a fire long forgotten
or never caught.
kindling left untempted
by the tongues of flame and sparks
in darkness, begging.

wordless words that commune a tune
noted more for harmony than melody,
tempo'd tempting in fingertip concussions,
soft and subtle subtext for the next
thunder under a heaven obscured
to eyes closed to feel the storm,
warm and sudden.

cleansing memory of emotions
misplaced for the moment as we taste
a feast released in senses
awakened in the depths of the plutonic.
an irony of purity and hasted chastity
in unworn corners of hearts parted
by the sheen of the unseen silence.

they are more to explorations than explanations
of the purpose of our propositions.
fair and feral you are, a scar
upon many hearts that misplayed their part
in bidding with copper for gold and mithral.
here, here is the familiar stranger, danger
only if the door is left open for dreams.

the room will not recall your name.
the sheets will fold away your holy oils,
raised to a new alchemy by a fusion
in which confusion and illusion played roles
rolled out in soft surrenders and vague victories
against the horded hoards of passions.
we will be but memories of uncertain times.

you will leave within me a shadow.
a shadow which does not fade in light
for I own my own dark corners and I will feed it
and seed it and bleed it for my own blood when
the thin skin no longer holds high the horizon
like Atlas falling to one knee with a groan.
and it is my duty to your beauty to recall.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Samantha Mane said "It is a lovely heat you have aroused."
Mari Laureano wrote "A visual and sensual treat..rich with the burning emotion that makes your work the stuff of legends..."
Chanti stated "I am in awe and will learn at your feet if you will let me."
Spiritwind (Vesna) exulted "I AM IN AWE!!!! I shant even try to review this poem...it would be to no avail... I AM STUNNED!!!!"

I figure if I use this one as my benchmark, I will do okay. I like the word "awe" when applied to my work. Makes me feel like I am on the right track.

Oh, and which totem-muse inspired this? I cannot say. Not that I do not know.

I just cannot say.

lucky in editing...

I think I have gotten more emails in the last 48 hours from people upset they'd missed the book signing/reading on Saturday than attended it.

Don't worry...I'm not dead yet, and this is going to be an unbelievable year. I've been working on the two new books and the upscaling of THE MORGANTOWN SUITE POEMS, plus it looks like Daniel S. McTaggart and I will be doing at least one (and maybe more) joint promotional appearnces for our books.

So, life is getting more interesting. Now, about this very complicated young woman I have my eye on...

As to RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE and 101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS, the work is well underway.

I have decided to stick with the "ronin" instead of "a ronin" in the title for a more universal feel, as ronin can be both singular and plural.

As for 101GEP...it is going to be previously unbound works (those having not appeared in any book) designed to make us all victims of our more feral instincts. Every poem, a seduction. I am unleashing the full amomancer can of whupp ass on this one.

Either of these volumes would be a life's worthy work. Both in one year? I must be nuts. A very attractive lady of my acquaintance, earlier today, spoke to me and said that I probably write better when I am miserable and between relationships. I told her I write best when in a relationship...I edit better when I am undistracted by a lover. But I would gladly surrender it all to return to the fire. Let someone else edit me.

night of a handful of poets

One of the ideas I struck while in Los Angeles was a concept called "Night of a Thousand Poets"...the concept was to get just about every poet in the LA area (and there are bazillions of them...and I am not talking about every yahoo who wrote a poem once, I'm talking about book-published poets, or at least lit-journal published poets) to do an evening where each poet gets up, reads a poem, and steps down...

Then I hit an idea when I was working with the poetry group in Bay St. Louis...it was called "Attack of the Street Poets"...where we'd place a performance poet on as many street corners as we could and let them do their thing, all on a pleasant summer's afternoon...unfortunately, I left before I could make that a reality and what my absence didn't undo, Hurricane Katrina helped bury...

Now I'm working with a few people on an idea I call "Night of...(TBD) Poets" similar to the first more than the second, but there is, believe it or not, a substantially smaller pool of published poets in Morgantown, West Virginia (population less than 30,000) than Los Angeles (population about 7,000,000). So we shall see what the formats allow for.

I do know this, and thanks to Alan for the inspiration...if I am going to spend time here, I am going to shake things up on the arts front. For too long the resource of the extraordinary talent and people of this region has been squandered. Many have tried and some have succeeded to raise the bar, artistically, around here...I'm throwing in with them, indirectly...I don't play well on a team, too mercurial, but I will send as many shock waves as I can through the local community.

Right now the schools and the public library system are being completely non-cooperative to me (they accept my books, but not me...wtf?)

Many of the local arts groups are top-heavy with WVU-affiliated people who believe the only way to accomplish anything artistically is to spend your tax money and student fees to have it imported from out of the region. The local music scene seems to be driven more by a desire to create a homogenized flow of artists that won't make you spill your drink.

And there are those who think that any art that does not focus in mason jars, trains, coal miners, trucks and moonshine is not about the people of West Virginia. What balderdash. I do know people who "can" their own vegetables and jellies and jams, but not many. I know coal miners and people who have ridden on trains, but not many. Moonshine? Beer is cheaper to most.

Our insularity, our self-enforced insularity and belief somehow that "backwards is better" is not sane. It keeps us in the lower tiers economically and were it not for legislative champions like Sen. Robert Byrd, we'd be down the tubes long ago, drowning in our own prideful ignorance, left behind by the 21st century.

I love the culture of the hills, but we must be affirmative, competitive and creative. There's nothing wrong with the culture of the region, as long as it accepts the fact that, inspite of anyone's wishes, the clock keeps ticking and new artists rise and walk away, embittered by the constraints of a myopic worldview.

Let's get with it, fellow Montagnards.

credits for yesterday's reading/signing

As the music rises, we get the end credits from yesterday's signing and reading at Barnes and Noble...

Written and Directed by William F. DeVault

Produced by Chanda Willard of Barnes & Noble

Mr. DeVault's Hair by Rob Sanzi of Expressions in Hair
Mr. DeVault's Wardrobe by whatever was clean that morning

Special thanks to Lulu.com and iUniverse for timely logistical support

Moral Support: Alan MacDonald
Immoral Support: Deb McDonald
Moral Support in absentia: Daniel S. McTaggart
Membership Services courtesy of Kate

Signing Pens: Pilot Precise Grip Extra Fine

Webmaster E.J. Trelawny

Eternal, immortal thanks to Melissa, Jan, Peri, Elric, Dante, Nancy, Teri, Tonya, Tanya, Ann, Alisha, Brigit, Lauri and Kristina for the inspirations. You are whom you meet.

And, in the end...

The Poet Laureate of the Blogosphere

The voting has begun for the "Poet Laureate of the Blogosphere"...I'm in the noms.

I am not asking you to vote for me, I am backing the marvelous Nordette Adams (I would not decline the honor, but I feel I have enough sobriquets on my resume).

to vote, go to
The Voting Booth and express your desire. Again, I would encourage you to vote for the Jersey Goddess, Nordette Adams.

Have a great one, I am battling my usual post-signing headache.

Working on a cover design for RONIN... and debating the final title...should the book be called

RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE
or
A RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE

I'm going to cogitate on a subtitle, something with poet or poems or poetry in it...

I am also recruiting a panel to help me in selecting the final 101 poems for 101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS. Ideally I will take both male and female evaluators, but I have a natural bend towards wanting to know what makes women purr...so, if you want to volunteer, are over 18 and have a literary IQ above the temperature of groundwater at the North Pole, drop me a line at williamfdevault@cityoflegends.com expressing your interest in the project. No pay, but you will be acknowledged.

lots of time with nothing to do...

It's Sunday Morning...time to....hey, I didn't plan anything for today! What wil I do?

Well, later today I'm helping Tag make the final edit on his book MIDNIGHT MUSE IN A CONVENIENCE STORE.

There's Quaker Meeting this morning.

I've got some groundwork I am laying out for my next two books, as well as pre-prep for the global release of THE MORGANTOWN SUITE POEMS.

I need to catch up on some movie viewing.

There is a slight chance I'll be getting together with a friend later today.

I'm talking to my boys this afternoon.

And of course, I refuse to miss "The West Wing".

So, all in all, fo an unplanned, unstructured lazy lay-about day...lots to accomplish.

I have been asked who is writing the forewords for (1)101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS and (2)RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE.

The answers are (1) No one, the original 101 GREAT LOVE POEMS did not have a foreword, I see no reason to clutter this one, and (2) I haven't decided yet. I can't think of anyone off the top of my head who would be right for this assignment. It will be tough finding someone I consider relevant and possessed of enough gravitas.

Nominees, anyone?

signing and reading post mortem

Okay, I'm caffeinated enough to do the post mortem on the signing, so let us begin at the beginning.

Turnout was light but aggressive...I'd rather have a handfull who are there to buy than an army of browsers. Some old friends who had never before seen me do a public read showed up, as well as my nephew, Bobby (no other family representation). We'll give this aspect a "B".

Sales, brisk, solid. The merchant was pleased. Another "B".

Follow up, good. I have been asked back for at least two more visits, and helped cement a reading for a friend. "A-".

My performance. Er...let's call it a "C"...I can think f a few thousand ways I could have done better in the reading, but that's me. I did manage to do my first public reading of "Melissa: A Remembrance" and gave what may have been one of my best readings ever of "Cithara Song, strummed lightly as the sun leaps the horizon".

Connection? I had several who bought express interest in getting on my newsletter mailing list and wanting to buy THE MORGANTOWN SUITE POEMS. This is a very good sign. Oh, and the audience interest in upcoming release of 101 GREAT EROTIC POEMS was...er...warm and moist. This is an "A".

Media. Pre-event - "C+". Cutting and pasting press releases is not journalism. Event coverage? If there were any media people there they were hiding behind the sex manuals in the corner. "F". A merged grade of "D+".

Overall...a soft "B"...better than average, but the (a)pathetic showing by media dragged hard on it.

Oh, ambience? Decent...some nice people, some lovely ladies, some clever isnights, I even got my Barnes and Noble discount card from the server I have not been flirting with for the last few weeks. I gave her a copy of "PanthEon" (autographed, of course) to thank her for her attentiveness.

I also managed to sum up, in one simple statement, what a "ronin in the temple of aphrodite" signifies: A romantic without a lover.

Now that made it all worth while. Well, that and the spiffy haircut (no, I kept the tail...)

sex and the single poet-god

The signing is a fait accompli...decent turnout and they sold a lot of books, so I will be invited back, especially when THE MORGANTOWN SUITE POEMS goes global...Arts Mon is going to enjoy this.

Tired, but jazzed...may collapse, may go out and play. Haven't decided yet.

Caught myself flirting with several of the young women at the signing...I may be regaining my equilibrium.

Lock up your sisters, mothers, wives and daughters now...

pre-show rituals

He's in the space and into his pre-appearance(1) rituals (even he admits that's what they are). Usually he goes to bed early the night before, rises early and goes out shopping someplace random, early...in case something he sees strikes his fancy.

He then takes a nap, grooms and assembles his materials (usually superfluous, as he always puts everything he's going to need into his leather gym bag(2) several days in advance).

He will pick the jacket(3) he's going to wear just before leaving, and will time his arrival at the site to be one hour before the event. He will not discuss the reading or appearance during the morning leading up to it, with anyone, and will have a short fuse until the actual start of the reading...then, he's Mister Intensely Smooth.

I know there is a young lady he is hoping shows up for the signing...but he's keeping me walled off from that. Bastard.

Footnotes:

(1) Today, April 22nd, 2006. 2pm-4pm reading and book signing, Barnes and Noble, Morgantown, West Virginia.

(2) It's a piece of crap...it has been abused to death over the aeons. I think he told me he found it at an old k_Mart years ago...the handle ripped while transporting a full load of books to a reading where the bookstore didn't order books in time, so he had to supply them.

(3) Usually he chooses between a black, nondexript cloth jacket and a thrift shop 60's style dress jacket, both black. There have been reports of him wearing a racing team jacket to some signings, and I am aware of a black silk "dragon" jacket he eceived last year from China. What will he wear? You're asking me?

letting in a lover...

I got an email from an old lover the other day (there would be a major scandal all around in our circles if I revealed her identity, even in "totem muse" terms") we have kept in touch, sporadically, over the intervening years and we quip and flirt and help each other out as best we can, sub rosa.

But she made a comment that startled me, made me realize how much she had forgotten of me over this span. She made a small joke about something and I responded with a personal detail about her, and she was startled that I could recall it.

My God, what sort of romantic would I be if I could not summon the intimate details of those I have been fortunate to love and at least have the illusion of their love in return? By intimate, I do not mean sexual, although I recall that, as well, but truly small and personal things.

The way a woman laughs. A turn of phrase she loves to employ. Her smile when she sleeps. What she loves, what she hates, what she celebrates. The look in her eyes when she speaks of those she loves. Her favourite anecdotes. The socks she likes to wear when she sleeps. Her favourite actors. Songs. Movies. Books. The way she fidgets with her jewelry when nervous. Her birthmarks. The smell of her hair as she lays in your arms.

These are all part of my universe, because I let them in. I would be a liar to say they did not matter, because when you love, what matters to your lover is of consequence to you. In this woman's case, although our friendship has had its ups and downs, I do still love her, always will. It would diminish me as a person to not, just as the scars to be left by the burning off of an unfortunate tattoo is uglier than the tattoo itself.

I don't exile people, no matter what their trespasses. They exile themselves. And I still recall the curve of their head when I help them wash their hair and their favourite part of their feet when I give them a footrub. And their favourite breakfast cereal. And how they order their hamburgers at Wendy's. (Single, cheese, pickles, catsup, mustard, lettuce...right, Psyche?)

That's part of being a real man. And I thank God every day for those who have allowed me into their lives.

Recituri te salutamus

Tomorrow is the signing at Barnes & Noble...I'm ready. I've locked down those components inside my head necessary to get out there and play. It should be a good event...I have no idea how sales will go, or how many peope will be there, but the Daily Athenaeum and the Dominion Post have both publicized the event, as has the B&N store itself. I feel like Matt Santos on "The West Wing"...everyone else has done their job, now its my role to step up and get it done.

Tag won't be there, he has a comics convention in Pittsburgh. Hey, to each their own. Several old friends have said they'll attend...many of them people who have never seen me read before (and store readings are notoriously the worst venues for performance...too many distractions, too little control) but I am resolved to do my best. I'm going to get out and do non-poetry things tomorrow to get my space defined. I am also taking a stack of copies of PanthEon (I have my stash) to offer as free enticements to those who do buy books tomorrow. One more book out in the world to be picked up and read at the right time to move a person's mind and heart and soul.

Thanks to all of you who have commented on this week's podcast...it was fun, as always.

My little treatise on the poetic elements this morning has got me thinking...too hard. My brain hurts.

careful explorations

where are the boundaries
what is the line
that
I will find when you
tell me that it's enough
I
don't want to know
and I don't want to go
but
I just need to see
what you can be to me
rare
is the woman who fits so well
that I feel instant comfort inside my
shell
and yet I'm moved to see
what more there is
yet
to be found if I dare to continue
to probe your sphere


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

earth, air, fire and water poets

It was a strange zone to be in, last night, at the reading. Of the seven poets reading, five were "earth" poets. Poets grounded in imagism, the presentation of the physical world around them. Mountains, trees, news stories, an old car, the house they grew up in...

I do not dislike "earth" poets, but being a "fire" poet myself, I prefer a different element, I am most comfortable in that element. Fire poets write of the heart, emotions, the primary colours of the human psyche - love, fear, rage. Our palette is rooted in the real world, but it is more how that world makes us feel than how it feels to our senses.

Fire poets make great lovers and lousy neighbors.

And what of "air" and "water"? The air poets are the spiritual and speculative poets. They write of divine inspiration. I dabble, a fair bit, in that element, in my alchemies, but it feels grey to me, although there are some masterful poets of that ilk.

Water poets are the natural order poets, they commune with nature and, while their poetry bears a passing resemblance to the earth poets, it is only like air is to fire, some vague overlap of metaphor.

An earth poet looks upon a house on a hill and speaks of the house. The air poet speaks of the faith of those who built it, and their familial bonds. The water poet would talk of the trees and the sky and the animals dwelling in the trees. The fire poet would speak of the emotions invoked by the image.

The earth poet takes a picture with words of the house, for posterity. The water poet collects pinecones and fewmets. The air poet takes a family portrait. The fire poet...ah, what does the fire poet do?

He writes their diaries...and their amotations.

Busy evening, to say the least

Okay, follow along as best you can and watch yourself on the chord changes...

Busy evening...

#1: This week's show is UP. Check it out on Apple's iTunes Music Store -or- visit The City of Legends Radio page.

#2: Visited B&N to see about the open microphone event. Tag unveiled his book and I got to meet Cheryl Denise, the completely charming poet/author of "I Saw God Dancing". I am going to book her into my podcast in the coming weeks...count on it. I read "Damascus III", "The Darker Angels" and "Cithara Song, strummed lightly as the sun leaps the horizon"...hey, Alisha, everyone loves that poem, you should be proud that you inspired it.

#3: Wrote some more works, but I won't post any right now...busy getting wound up for the signing on Saturday, getting psychotic. No, really...don't get in my face.

quick notes from a hummingbard

Will have the show up by 10 tonight, edt.

Going to run over to B&N to assist with open microphone event.

Getting in the head space for Saturday's event...wish Selke was here to absorb some of this energy. sigh. John Cougar was half right...driving me crazy would be a relief right now...

I had a waking dream today...last time one of those came calling, a few days later TRIUMPH emerged. We shall see what happens.

Thought for today: Even the guilty grow weary of hearing of their sins.

The Dominion Post costs me ten bucks

The Dominion Post (Morgantown's only newspaper, which I was a paperboy for as a kid) ran a piece on my upcoming B&N signing...

I owe someone a tenspot...I had bet they'd misspell my name, if they even mentioned me at all.

I'll have to see the article to see if they got all the other info right, and if they mentioned that their own award-winning photographer Ron Rittenhouse took the picture that wound up on the cover of my 2005 release THE MORGANTOWN SUITE POEMS.

No, the other Johnson

I received a lovely email from a young lady yesterday - she's putting up a tribute site to four actors she admires and wanted permission to use some of my poetry as part of the project. I assented (I rarely withhold permission) but what blew my mind was a curious coincidence...one of the four actors is Robert Davi, whom I am acquainted with. Terrific guy and a grossly undervalued actor in today's market. Anyone who has thrown down with Brice Willis ("Die Hard", in which he was the trigger happy Viet Nam vet FBI agent Johnson (No, the other one)), Elizabeth Berkeley ("Showgirls", which I trashed when I was a film reviewer at AOL, but singled him, Gina Ravenna and Gina Gershon out as not deserving to be dragged through the streets behind an oxcart for their involvement with this film) and Timothy Dalton's James Bond ("License to Kill", wherein his Sanchez was recognized as one of the most popular Bond villains of all time) is okay by me.

In recent years he has been heavily involved with the educational group I-Safe, you can see their work through their website at www.isafe.org which seeks to help parents understand the dangers of and protect their children from the perils of the internet. As a parents myself, anyone who steps up to help protect my kids is okay in my book...too many people just take the money and run. And there are dangers on the web. No renaissance has ever been without those who exploit it to their own dark and selfish means, light casts shadows, you know.

Besides, you haven't really lived until you've heard him sing opera in his kitchen (he's a trained voice and is quite good, actually). But enough love on the craggy faced tough guy...on to the poetry stuff....

Tag reports he got his final proof of his book and it looks fab. Attaboy, Kohai. You are now an official "author"...you, too, can get chicks and harrass editors.

Tonight I will be releasing my weekly podcast (I will be too busy tomorrow and Saturday, so I figured I'd put it to bed early). Look in it for a couple of pleasant enough reads including my new work "Hold the Bridge"...somewhat in your face, no? Also some definitive word on my publishing plans for the next eight months.

a quick update

If you're interested in what I'm up to this year, as pertains to my books, I'd make sure to check out this week's podcast when I bring it up later this week, Major, major news about my books.

Thank you all for your hearty response to "hold the bridge"...this remarkable poem came to me as pure and direct as a kiss for an unsuspected admirer.

I note the reliance on Horatius at the bridge as the underlying allegory. The call to arms against cultural decay in the face of the evils of mediocrity. Jesus said you don't light a candle to put it under a basket, but we have a culture, here in the West, that celebrates mediocrity and aberrant plainness, whie worshipping violence, greed and excess.

Excess of excellence is good. Excess of vice is not. Let's not mince words. No form of stagnation has ever benefitted society. No war worth winning was ever won by moral cowardice. There are hard choices ahead. Sacrifice must be made. Greys must be parted into darkness and light.

virgin on my tenth wedding night

There's a piece in THE FOUR AGREEMENTS about how what people do, think or say has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them (somehwat echoed in my own statement that "The existence of a single atheist does not disprove the existence of God")

But having been asked a half dozen times in the last few days about my bibliography, and having been greeted by some who have heard of my second planned volume for this year as being a first-time author...I just wanted to kick it clean.

Eight books so far:

PanthEon
From Out of the City
From an Unexpected Quarter*
Love Gods of a Forgotten Religion*
101 Great Love Poems*
INVOCATO
THe Morgantown Suite Poems
The Compleat Panther Cycles*

at least two more in the chute for this year. The ones marked with asterisks are stocked by all major online retailers and will be in supply at this weekend's B&N reading.

I wonder if Asimov (who published more than 200 books in his career) had to put up with this crap.

hold the bridge

hold the bridge
while the world goes mad and the rabble
scrabble like one eyed dogs for the last bone
baying and praying to perversions of the Almighty,
killing in the name of peace,
cursing in the name of redemption

hold the bridge
with the poets and the minstrels and the ronin
who would rather die an honorable death than live
a lie forced upon them by misguided honour
lovers who love and dreamers who dream
until the steam rises from their pyres at dawn

hold the bridge
just long enough to let those of couer rage
of the second water but fire nonetheless
burn and hack away the cords that ford hope
and fall away to seal the base cowards
of snide pride and fell principles

hold the bridge
it is not enough to avoid evil you must also resist it
with every breath in mortal form and shadow cast
into the coming days to inspire those who seek
legends and mythologies in the mystery of history
where there are those who dared to, who cared to

hold the bridge


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

from the forthcoming book "RONIN IN THE TEMPLE OF APHRODITE"
available December 14, 2006

hometown media

Interesting little trifle of a piece about my forthcoming signing at B&N, courtesy of the Daily Athenaeum, the West Virginia University (WVU) student newspaper. No major gripes from me...they spelled my name correct, got my initial, and managed to successfully name two of the four books than B&N has stocked up on for the event.

And, while it doesn't quite measure up to the coverage they gave me last year (two large pieces, including one on the front page) it was nice to be mentioned. I am sure the local non-student newspaper, the Dominion Post, will either say nothing...or run a small, fold piece with my name misspelled, like usual. I don't play basketball, sell cars or golf, so I am really not their cup of tea.

I wonder if the Red and Blue Journal at Morgantown High School will cover it...

That's when you really know you've made it.

To check out the piece in the DA, you can go to their website...
The Daily Athenaeum Interactive

and, if it is not still up, you should be able to find it (along with at least two older articles about me, using the "Search" function.

the dog-and-poet show

Ran into "Saint Thomas" yesterday at B&N. We discussed the fall of Western Civilization and he bought a copy of THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES as a gift for a friend, having me sign it in the store. (rousing round of applause)

He says he has yet another essay on my psychological deconstruction, and I told him to send it along...I do not agree with all of his conclusions, but some of his assessments are spot on and I find it refreshing that someone would "speak truth to power"...most beople are too polite or too afraid of the consequences. He is neither, thank God.

He had with him a friend, and I wish I could recall his name, but you know me with names...who is a poet, and has the facility to summon up his works to recite, cold. I used to be able to do that...I didn't get old, I just got too big of a catalog. There's maybe a dozen or so I could toss off without a thought or a referring text. I encouraged him to attend the open microphone event they are having on Thursday.

To add my two cents to the dog-and-poet-show I seized a copy of my FROM AN UNEXPECTED QUARTER off the shelf and there, in the aisle, did an impromptu performance of "Damascus: Movement Three" (you know, the one that starts "Aphrodite does not barter her beauty for hollow promise...") It was invigorating and a worthy warm up for Saturday's to-do.

tightening my clockwork knife*

I need to spend less time listening to looped music I've constructed for my lyrics...too emotionally draining. I can manipulate my moods with the music, and thus it is very addictive, dangerously so...I have never been addicted to the poetry, it is a part of me, not an outside force...but the music, very dangerous.

I stopped by to see a friend at work today, let him know that I'd taken his words to heart and would be, in my own circumspect and possibly futile and misunderstood way, asking out the lady in question...he all but lit a fire under me over her last week, he could see that I was interested in her, but my inner coward was winning the battle. I need to take action...

I think I shall go to B&N tonight for a final recon before the event on Saturday. I need to unwind...before I start biting people. A side effect of the adrenaline before the read seems to be a major rush of testosterone. A shame I don't have a lover to share it with at this time, so I need to be careful not to get too "raging in a cage". I can end up shifting into a mode of emotion wherein the id becomes dominant and my instinctive reactivity becomes almost inarticulate.

Major book news coming up the end of this week...major, effecting most of my catalog. I believe it is a sign of a sea change, a major flow in the currents of my books.

These are exciting times. And I haven't even put the boat in the water yet...the Pillars of Hercules, and beyond, await.

* a reference to my poem "The Darker Angels" from "from an unexpected quarter"

a pleasant dream

I like a pleasant dream once in a while.

Last night I went to bed, having spent some crunch time working on another of my poetry/music fusions, this one in honor of Psyche, a/k/a the Electric Lady. I dreamed from the music, an acoustic guitar driven piece, inspired by the works of Neil Young and Nicky Hopkins, appropriately enough. .

In the dream we encountered each other on a bus, as persons both of who we are and who we were, and spoke at length. She was as brilliant as I recall, and as beautiful. We touched, but nothing more...she is, after all, at last word, a married woman and I have largely retired the aspect of roguishness that enabled me to sleep with married women. Also, as the dream projected my desire, I saw her as someone happy and certain in her life, and Lord knows I has sown enough discontent in the lives of others without making a new muck of hers.

But it was a pleasant dream, a pleasant scene, so much so that I verbalized that very thought upon waking. It was the most peace I have felt, waking alone, in some time.

The sense of peace lasted just long enough for me to note that my email is down. Grumble. But I am still left with the sense of a pleasant surprise on the road between two places and a face that I did need to see once more, if just to remind me that people are who they are, not who I define them to be.

comparative sales rankings: Amazon versus Barnes&Noble

Current sales rankings of my books:

If we go by the numbers at Barnes and Noble (bn.com), the order of my books, in terms of sales, are:

101 Great Love Poems (paperback)
101 Great Love Poems (hardback)
The Compleat Panther Cycles
From an Unexpected Quarter
Love Gods of a Forgotten Religion

If we go by the numbers at Amazon.com, the order is slightly different:

The Compleat Panther Cycles
101 Great Love Poems (paperback)
101 Great Love Poems (hardback)
Love Gods of a Forgotten Religion
From an Unexpected Quarter

(TCPC jumps ahead of the 101GLP volumes and "Love Gods" and "Unexpected Quarter" trade places)

Note I am leaving off limited distribution titles from my catalog, which includes:

PanthEon
The Morgantown Suite Poems
INVOCATO
From Out of the City

What is to be made of all of this? Beats the heck out of me.

My head hurts...I hate. hate. hate. hate dealing with the business end of things...I spent my years as a purgatoried project manager with corporate America. I was good at it. damn good at it, I just lacked the willingness to trade my soul for it (one VP at CSC said that I should have been a minister instead of a project manager. If only he had paid attention, he might have learned something valuable.)

And what of brave Odysseus?

remembering the surrendering
and how it felt to live
a memory is left in me
when you've taken all I give

and what of brave Odysseus
still out upon the sea
shall he walk again among us
or be lost to history?

a lion's tale is little more
than a belly full of prey
punctuated by a roar
for the ones that get away

and what of brave Odysseus
still out upon the sea
shall he walk again among us
or be lost to history?


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I hate it when I write these things in my sleep...I'll have to come back later and read this to decipher it...another riddle from the preconscious. Prospero as an amomancer.

The tenth question: defining my faith

Hey, got so wrapped up in the podcast problems I failed to answer the tenth question. I received several interesting ones to fill that slot...but this one begged a response, in consideraton of the season...

You make a lot of scriptural, theological and mythological references in your poetry. What are your religious views?
Wow. I'll give you the bullet, as the full explanation would probably take several volumes and start a new world religion, requiring me to throw myself on a pyre someplace. Not interested in martyrdom.

I joke sometimes my faith is firmly entrenched in the best Buddheo-Christian traditions. I was born and raised in the Christian faith, and believe in it, with every ounce of my being. That having been said, I haven't encountered a whole lot of people interested in pursuing the faith laid down by Christ and the Apostles...too busy being "pragmatic".

I think that killing is morally and theologically wrong.

I believe non-violence is the right solution to nearly everything.

I believe in sacrifice as an act of love and the power of a charitable heart.

I believe in second chances.

I believe in free will.

I do not believe that God intercedes in everyday life as a matter of course...this would negate free will as it would be obvious that those who follow God benefit from it and everyone would jump in out of greed. Of course, following this logic, I have the same problem with anyone who seeks God out of fear of death or desire for a reward, in this life or the next.

I think gratitude is the best core on which to build one's faith. I already have received my life, my sentience, and for all my efforts to seemingly make a muck of it from time to time, I am grateful for this greatest gift. I think, I believe, I know that if more people came to God out of gratitude and love than greed and fear, the church, this nation, this world would be a better place.

There, that any better? I currently am involved with the Society of Friends, whom most call "Quakers". I have been baptized as both a Baptist and an Episcopalian, and I know worthy souls of many, many faiths.

Oh, Happy Easter, all. (Speaking of second chances.)

Podcast has been achieved...we are go...

The new podcast is up, finally...thanks to technical problems with archive.org and Comcast, a little later than usual, but it is up...both at Apple's iTunes Music Store and at my Radio Page.

Thanks to all who have been so kind of late, a special shout out to Chanda Willard of Barnes & Noble for her remarkable support in planning and executing my reading next week.

Happy Easter to all...Peri, Elric and Dante...(and Brian)...especially.

If you are not currently subscribing to my newsletter at Google Groups...you need to get with it, especially if you want to hear some very fresh news and get opportunities at fantastic and exclusive deals on my books...

William F. DeVault's Newsletter

Poets Laureate and killing machines

Owing to some technical delays brought by a truly remarkable thunderstorm, the weekly podcast FROM OUT OF THE CITY may not be up until later this evening or even early tomorrow. Don't worry...I won't let it slip.

I found a listing of the state Poets Laureate at the Library of Congress website.

The State Poets Laureate

Note than several states do not have official poets laureate, and the position sits vacant in a few others...lobby your state legistlatures for the establishment of the position if your state does not have it, and nominate your favourite poet from your state if the slot is currently vacant in your state.

Sat down and re-watched "HELP!" the other evening. I still enjoy the hell out of that film, with his now more than 40 years old. The Beatles will always be that young to me, in my mind. That four young men (they were from 22 to 24 when this movie was made) could have such a jarring impact on Western Civiliztion is always a marvel to me...and something hard to explain to those born too late to see the strides taken, not just the fossils of the footsteps.

Interesting pair of articles in the latest issue of Rolling Stone. The cover story is an interview with Keifer Sutherland. He comes across as a charmingly human individual, despite the consuming fire of working on the pressure cooker that is the TV series "24" day and night and night and day. The other is a rather shocking piece on the psychological conditioning the US military uses to turn young men and women for whom killing another person is wrong into killing machines who do not perceive it as killing, but in abstract terms.

We are building, have built, a culture of death, and then we wring our hands over our lack of value. When you tear down the cornerstones and foundations of our humanity, expect the apocalypse. Don't tell children it is okay to kill if you use the right word for it, then ask them to have moral compasses. The hypocrisy is staggering.

A friend asked me the other day if I was going to ask a mutual acquaintance out. I had to give him the twenty minute lecture on cowardice that seems to be my Catechism of late. Besides, having been already a victim of my own bad judgement, the monastic life doesn't look so bad...maybe I just need to view it in simpler, abstract terms.

Nope. Love, to me, will always be a big thing...

Happy Birthday, Bro...

Today is my older brother, Robert's, birthday.

We've spent about a half century being competitive, usually in a nice way, towards each other. He's a great guy, even if he can be a smart ass when the mood takes him (like I can't? oops...there's that competitive streak...)

But I have found that, unlike just about anybody else on Planet Earth, he's never been malicious about it. We tussle like tiger cubs, but when the chips are down, ahead of just about anyone - he's got my back. And that's what a friend is.

So, Happy Birthday, Bro...I got your back. Let's keep this up for another half century. Just don't depend on me to make it easy for you...you better keep bringing your "A" game. Because I plan to.

the new flyer and the 9th question

This is the "official flyer" for my reading next Saturday...(click on it for a larger view)...

wow, it looks like I actually wrote a book...or four...

feels good.

Hey, question #9...

What scares you?
People I care for being at risk. Whether it's a grown child of mine dropping off the face of the planet for an evening or being unable to confirm the status of friends and loved ones after a national disaster, it rips me up inside. I'm not particularly afraid of pain or death, but put someone I care about at risk and I'll turn inside out over it. It's my Achilles heel, but as weaknesses go, I'll take it over cruelty, vindictiveness, disingenuousness and emotional retardation. I was once told someone I loved was doomed. It...changed me...I spent the next few years of my life so involved in keeping them safe that I paralyzed my own life. It was pretty grim.

Okay...one to go...

the new B&N Flyer

Got the flyer from B&N for the readings...their official one that lists just yours truly and Irene McKinney, the West Virginia Poet Laureate.

Nice company to travel in, to be treated as a peer for anyone who is an official anything. And, to be honest, to not have to stare mine own sobriquet ("The Romantic Poet of the Internet") in the face, is a relief. Of course, whilst they remember my initial, they did lose the capital "V" in my last name...but such sins are forgiven, readily.

I'm off to unwind, then I will be laying down this week's podcast...then trying to regain my sanity o'er the weekend. The adrenaline is already flowing for next week. I should get copies of this flyer and my own to various locales to plug the event...

Tag gets 'er done

Well, we got Dan McTaggart's book in...it should become available late next week (and, at that point, I will make sure to include it in the City of Legends' bookstore, with his assent). MIDNIGHT MUSE IN A CONVENIENCE STORE is the book of poetry for guys who don't normally read poetry...it connects with a slice of American life, with a genre of reader, not considered by many to be poetry readers: Guys who wear ballcaps indoors and buy beer the first thing in the morning...you know, the "My Name is Earl" set.

That's a little exaggerated, but it carries the thistledown of truth...this is blue collar poetry, about working the register at midnight in a rural gas station when a pretty girl saunters in (I love it when they saunter) from out of nowhere to buy a gallon of milk, resplendent in her sun dress. The tableau of the crowd at a local diner as the waitress does her "bigger tip" flirt with the guy on his third cup of coffee. The sound of the night breeze through the broken window of an old barn. Poetry on a street corner where Whitman and Bukowski might encounter one another and nod a familiar smile.

It will look impressive, thrown carelessly on the back seat of your Chevy, when the girl in the cutoff shorts and tube top climbs in. She'll be impressed you read poetry and probably reward you for your "sensitivity". Repeatedly.

I'm still waiting for a couple of questions to finish my quest for good questions to answer...whassamatter, everyone runing dry? C'mon...let me hear it, let me have it, you know you're dying to ask, and I'm dying to answer...

two more questions answered

Almost done done...two more questions...that makes it eight, right?

Will you marry again?
Let's talk about a softball question. Yes, I almost certainly will. That I have made a bungle of the institution twice does not make the institution suspect, but my judgement and luck. I believe in monogamy and fidelity and love, I just made some mistakes along the way. I do believe that there is someone out there, worthy of my adoration and patient with my flaws.

Was the 'penetrating rose' a real rose?
(referencing the poem "the penetrating rose" from THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES)
Wow, I think I've answered this one before, but I'm not ashamed to answer it again. It was a real rose, purchased from a street vendor in Little Italy, in New York City, to the purpose placed. It was left behind in New York, to the best of my knowledge (when last I saw it, the lady in question had it in her possession).

I have decided to do some shuffling on my show this week, and move the new study regarding Poetry in America front and center. Drop by and we'll have a good time...

Poetry Foundation Says 90% of Americans "Value" Poetry

The publishers of Poetry magazine have released a study that shows that 90% of Americans value poetry and believe it enriches their lives. For the full report, in PDF format, go:

Poetry In America Study

The study points out that only a small percentage actively seek out poetry in their lives (we're going to have to do something about this, eh, my children?) and that many have had bad experiences with poetry when they were young (oh, joy, poetry is now in the same class as alcohol, sex, barking dogs and overcooked vegetables). The tables in the course of this 113 page document include:

"Perceptions of Poetry Readers by Poetry Users and Non-Users" (ah, a 'poetry user'...sort of like a condom user?) Seventy nine percent of study subjects defined as "poetry non-users" say that society "respects" an individual who reads poetry.

"Frequency of Poetry Purchases" (cheapskates! all of you!)

"Events Associated with Early Experiences of Poetry" (I do note that "getting laid" or "being seduced" are not on this list, which means I think they missed the whole "iambic pentameter - booty call" linkage we who write poetry are well versed in (pun intentional))

Stephen Young, program director of the Poetry Foundation states: "For the first time, organizations with a commitment to poetry can make their plans and seek their funding on the basis of quantitative data, not just the anecdotal impressions which, until now, have been the only information available. The research identifies what helps to make a person a lifelong poetry reader and will serve as a benchmark against which the Poetry Foundation will measure future initiatives."

Thanks, PF, for giving those of us who live the life some ammo for our eventual plans for world domination. I like some of your suggestions and conclusions, and when the One World Government of Poets is in place, you wil get a cushy job in my administration and massive funding.

my reading list for April 22nd

After consultation with Tag and an in-depth absorption of the ambience of the local B&N (including gratuitous, but totally sincere, flirtation with several of the workers there...sigh) I can, with some gravitas, announce my likely reading set for my visit there on the 22nd of this month, to promote every book ever written or conceived by my mind.

Warm Apples on a Summer Day (from THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES) Tag talked me into this one...it is his favourite from the cycles...I can't blame him. Softly sentimental and very down to Earth amidst epic issues of life, death, love and immortality.

From Out of the City (from FROM AN UNEXPECTED QUARTER) Practically a signature piece. Okay, not practically...it is a signature piece. I want to get myself sufficiently wired on adrenaline and caffeine so as to deliver on the promise of it.

When First I Chanced (from 101 GREAT LOVE POEMS) A simple and gentle piece, full of reverence and joy and hope.

Love Gods of a Forgotten Religion (from, not surprisingly, LOVE GODS OF A FORGOTTEN RELIGION) If there's a performed poem more identified with me than "from out of the city", this is not it...that would be "The Unicorns"...but this one is in the running for second place.

The Reich of Self-Discipline (from THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES) Bitter, passionate, patience at the very breaking point, a colour in my palette not often used.

Traveller to an Antique Land (from FROM AN UNEXPECTED QUARTER) The honest and passionate pilgrim of love's gesture of surrender to dreams yet unfulfilled. Just a wonderful bit of memory and hope.

To Dream (from 101 GREAT LOVE POEMS) An often overlooked gem, this one was a surprise to me, even. This will be my first public performance of it.

Icarus (from LOVE GODS OF A FORGOTTEN RELIGION) Saluting the courtship and marriage that gave me my children. A fist shaking in the face of winds yet to blow.

and my three encore works?

The Unicorns (from INVOCATO) Is there a poem more identified with me? This work still startles me every time I see how sophisticated the stylings, how effortless the wordflow was. Writ when I was barely a man.

First Date Blues (from THE MORGANTOWN SUITE POEMS) A crowd pleaser, to say the least. A look back at my hapless years, trying to figure out the secret behind girls, when I was in high school.

and finally...

I rained poetry (yes, it does appear in LOVE GODS OF A FORGOTTEN RELIGION) Can't not do this, if time allows...too popular, too much fun to get lost in. I may even open with it, if I dare.

So, there it is...pick away, children....oh, and I have answers to a few more questions posed...I'll get to them later...probably tomorrow...it's almost time for "Distraction" on Comedy Central.

the language of love (lyric)

You've got to wonder
when I bring the thunder
how the lightning will taste on your lips
You don't need to worry
I'm not in a hurry
this trip doesn't end at your hips

It's just a beginning
this sweet sinning twinning
winning the day - the night still so young
Bring me temptation
I find my redemption
The language of love thick on my tongue.

I'm packing desire
to slide in your fire
and see if you have enough heat
To temper my metals
as I'm wrapped in your petals
as a feast is released, fiery and sweet.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Hey, volunteer? Can I get a witness?

Uh oh...he's getting loose again...

Books at the reading confirmed

Okay, I have it now...a final confirm from the local Barnes & Noble as to what books of mine they have stocked up on prior to my signing on the 22nd:

THE COMPLEAT PANTHER CYCLES

101 GREAT LOVE POEMS

LOVE GODS OF A FORGOTTEN RELIGION

FROM AN UNEXPECTED QUARTER

Sounds good to me...I hope to see everyone there. Okay, not everyone...publishers I have feuded with and husbands that I have cuckolded, please, you can stay away.

Otherwise, I want a flippin' army. I promise a show you can write home about.

The Poet as Politician

Hey, here's a good one...question, I mean...

If you were running for President, what would your platform be?
The truth is, I almost ran for President a few years ago. In the mid-nineties a friend of mine and I hatched a plan to see if a team running for President and Vice President via the Internet, with no party backing (or is that hack-ing?), could make a showing. We spoke with some people and there were some political professionals who said that it might be possible to demonstrate the power of the World Wide Web to circumvent established barriers in a democracy.

Why didn't I? My wife torpedoed the idea and I had no desire to make such a bold move without her full backing. She was concerned about the exposure and about the possible risk to our children through some of the nuts out there (which I understand, completely).

The platform was going to be a technocratic Jeffersonian vision of America, with emphasis on the voice of the people in making future decisions and an increased role for research and development in all aspects of governmental spending. I have a very sharp vision of the role of the Government: It is to do for people what they cannot normally do for themselves. People can make decisions about many aspects of their lives, but for things such as building roads and national defense, they need the concentration of resource that the state and federal governments provide.

My personal views can and do differ from my political views, and politcal leaders do have to understand there is a dichotomy in this exercise of leadership. For instance, I am not altogether comfortable with the notion of abortion, there are no easy answers (on a personal level), but on a political level, in the absence of a philosphical, theological or biological mandate, it must be allowed for and I would be a strong, vigorous supporter of Roe v. Wade.

I would support more funding for research, for education, for social services, but with an eye towards, not just spending to spend money, but on the smartest ways to spend the money. Building a state's worth of new schools costs less than one high-tech stealth bomber...and even one of the greatest military men in history, President Dwight Eisenhower, warned us about the slippery slope of making America's economy dependent on merchants of death. That's why we have lost our educational leadership in the world.

Besides, as you are supposed to "Campaign in poetry..." you can bet your ass we would have had the nicest speeches.

Maybe I'll actually revive the campaign notion, although now we are no longer at the fragile joint of history as pertains to the internet, the Digital Renaissance is well upon us and now corporations could, with a fraction of a percent of their budgets, run their own web campaigns on issues to stunt or obliterate any candidate lacking a pre-existing National organization, into dust and irrelevancy. Plus my own sloppiness in my personal life over the last decade has made me vulnerable...it would be too easy to discount the message by mocking the messenger.

However, if there is some eccentric cabal of wealthy donors who want me to run...you know where to find me. Hey, six questions down...four to go...I am getting into this...

two more questions...that leaves 5, right?

Okay, the two questions from earlier I promised to answer today:

Why is your site called The City of Legends?
Fair enough question. About ten years ago I put up my first site, on Earthlink, and because there were so many stories floating around about me, I called it a "city of legends". A little later on, when I was being hounded by this obsessed dude in LA who believed my website's being on Earthlink meant I was a Scientologist, I decided to get my own domain. Some camper was squatting on williamfdevault.com, and yet another had grabbed my monogram, so I purchased the cityoflegends.com domain.
It's that simple. I recently got a query from someone wanting to know if I would be willing to sell the domain, but he never got back in touch with me...

What's your favourite poem to read in public?
A good question, it often depends on the crowd and my mood, and who is there. If a muse is in the house, I like to do pieces about her...but if not...I guess it would come down to a handful, including "I rained poetry", "Love Gods of a Forgotten Religion" and "from out of the city".

Oh...I found out this evening that the Barnes & Noble in Morgantown where I will be reading and signing books on the 22nd (and West Virginia's Poet Laureate Eileen McKinney will be appearing on the 29th!) has also stocked up on LOVE GODS OF A FORGOTTEN RELIGION (Yes, Tag, I know it is a great book title...but I said I was decommissioning it, dagnabit.)

Anyway, did you know that with a Barnes & Noble members card you could, conceivably, buy THE COMPLETE PANTHER CYCLES, 101 GREAT LOVE POEMS, LOVE GODS OF A FORGOTTEN RELIGION and FROM AN UNEXPECTED QUARTER at my appearance, get them all signed and save almost seven dollars in discounts? And hear me read!

So come down, buy the damn books, hear me read and let's show the planet that the digital renaissance has broken down the walls and we're storming the high ground.

pleasing everyone

I got a comment on one of my poems the other day...not the usual, anonymous snipe-from-cover BS you see, but an actual comment from a fellow writer...

He was gracious, and made suggestions to improve ther work (in other words, to make it more like what he would have written)...I left his comments up for a few days, then deleted them. I felt bad for him, actually, as he obviosuly has read nothing of my works on writing and poetic theory or he knows a) I don't rewrite and b) I don't rewrite to please the palates of others.

Okay, maybe for a particularly choice redhead...but not for anyone else, most likely...

I had a shock the other day...someone where I work in my secret identity tried to access my blog from the office and received a computer warning that the site was blocked...didn't use to be...I mean, I don't use obscenities, vulgarisms, profanity or even mention by name, as best I recall, the company where I work...

ah, freedom of speech, the American way...

That's more like it, campers

I get back over to my email and there's a good, elbow to the face question...good, good, good! I had to answer this one, it gets the juices flowing (again a compound question, is this a trend?)...

Which of your muses (defined as any woman I wrote at least one poem about) that you slept with that you wish you hadn't and which one that you did not sleep with that you wish you had?

Whom I shouldn't have slept with? Hmmm...there are a few I can come up with valid reasons why not, for everything from the breaking of my vows to the breaking of their vows to the notion you should never go to bed with someone crazier than yourself. But I'd have to say, all in all, with no further expansion, for the damage it did to those around me, Arachne.

Now who should I have gone the distance with and did not? This gets measured on several scales, but that prize has to go to...aigh...let me think...hmmmm...The Wisp. I was tempted to say the Goldenheart, but I don't know if her fragileessence would have borne up well under my emotionalism. Had I designed perhap the perfect woman for myself while I was in Los Angeles, The Wisp was her. To be honest, if things had worked out for us, I think the world would be a better place today, at least for me (and, without knowing her current situation, for her).

What's that now? Three down and 7 to go...more later.

the cornered animal poet

It's the "cornered animal poet" picture! That's what I call it. At my max for facial hair (I ditched the mustache a while back, but sometimes I contemplate its return) and looking like I am ready to kill and eat the photographer if they come any closer.

The weird part about this shot is that my hair is too dark...unlike the California shot, where it comes out blonde, here you can barely make out the fact that I am more salt than pepper (hey, what am I complaining about? at my age, I have hair!) and my omnipresent ponytail is nowhere in sight (it falls behind me, and thus it does not appear in full-on and three-quarters shots.

I arose at 5:05 this morning, per my alarm clock (I have a hand-wound replica of the same Westclox "Baby Ben" alarm clock that my parents had when I was a child, which has a loud, rude alarm, perfect for making certain that, on those occasions when I am lost in the dreamsphere, I find my off-ramp) and proceeded to stumble to the computer to check my email...two more questions...snort...I'm busy but I will get to them tonight. Is that all the better the readership can do? Softball relationahip questions? I've been asked more interesting things by random passers-by. Maybe the new workweek will spur some serious body-blows.

I miss Sydney. The dog, not the city. (I am allowed to reference her, am I not?)

I have slipped a few hours behind on my deadlines for Tag's edits...I must redouble or even retriple my edits.

The extremely attractive server at the Starbucks at the Barnes and Noble where I am doing a booksigning in about twelve days has been bugging me to buy a discount card...I promised her I'd buy one on the 22nd. She asked why, I told her she'd see. The great thing about flying under radar, you can surprise people. The bad thing? You can surprise people.

Some people don't like surprises.

No new questions...so far...

Just got off the phone a bit ago with my friend Lenny (from Los Angeles)...there are few people in this life I treasure like him, and we've been too busy to connect for the last few months...but I promised I'd drop by when I'm in town for my daughter's wedding in September... Lenny had been a very good friend of mine and my ex-wife's and it turns out he misplaced both our phone numbers and has been going nuts trying to catch up with us (silly boy, just look on the web...I don't hide!)

working tonight on the semifinal edits to Dan McTaggart's MIDNIGHT MUSE IN A CONVENIENCE STORE...want it to be fantastic, as the man has put together an excellent collectio of verse. You rock, Tag...I'm exceedingly proud of you.

Two questions of children and a muse

Well, that was fast...two questions from one source (almost unfair, but they are good questions, which I will subdivide even further at my own whim, with an explanation.

The questions were:

What is your favourite memory of your children?" and
What is a favourite memory of one of your muses?"

The first I must subdivide into one per child...

...favourite memory of Dante?
One night being awakened by the sound of giggling in the next room...tiptoeing to the boys' room I see Dante, who had arranged all the stuffed animals in a semi-circle on the floor. He was sitting amongst them, talking to them, listening intently, and occasionally laughing and reacting to what he was "hearing" from them. There was magic in that moment.

...favourite memory of Elric?
I have a picture of this moment somewhere. Elric had a knack for hurling things with pinpoint accuracy, even as a baby. One day I was stalking him with the camera and caught him in his room, examining the "nose bulb" (a ghastly instrument of blue rubber torture, used on unsuspecting children with clogged nasal passages)...he saw the camera as I raised it and launched the bulb at me...I snapped the picture as the bulb was airborne, a fraction of a second before it smacked into the camera and knocked it from my hands. The picture survived, I'll see if I can find it somewhere.

...favourite memory of Peri?
Almost unfair, compared to the boys, as she and I were best buddies forever, but let me pick one. She was maybe six years old and terrifyingly precocious, with a wicked sense of humour. She loved this slinky peasant blouse of her Mother's with an elastic waist and would wear it around the house as a dress, to play in. There were some balloons on the floor of the living room, left over from a party a few days before...Peri stuffed them into the blouse to simulate a bosom that would have made Dolly Parton fall over. She waltzed into the kitched and announced "Hey, Mom, the hormones kicked in..." Her Mother turned and shrieked. (Yes, that is also a Muse moment...)

...favourite memory of a Muse?
That's like asking me to pick between my children, but I'll try...it is simplified by threats from former lovers who want me to never mention them in my blog...and having already mentioned the Valkyrie, the list narrows...hmm.... So many memories...wow, this is a tough question...better I should pick a Muse first, then a memory of just her. Psyche wins a roll of the dice.

We had being seeing each other for some time when I met her elder sister for the first time...she had been living elsewhere for some time and had just recently moved home, I believe after a divorce. Anyway...we were all in the living room, I was talking, standing, and Psyche had reached her tolerance of the seriousness of the moment and called out "Sloth Time!"...one of our shorthand codes for particular actions to be taken...I dutifully scurried over the couch to kiss her and she wrapped her arms and legs (incedibly long legs...sigh...) around me and I had to step away from the couch with her hanging off me like a sloth. Her older sister burst out laughing with an irrespressible cackle I thought was going to damage the crystal. The intellectual seriousness of the moment was broken...shattered...and I didn't mind at all. Somewhere in my unpublished catalog is a poem called "Sloth Time"...

There you go, two down, eight to go...