The group of eight

Conversations. A table set with expectation Welcomes sitters in the afternoon. To eat perhaps or maybe more, To stir words around a special space. General talk at first About food or how did you make the sauce. Of freedom being outside on the porch. Dishes disappear with space made by concentrated elbows To move about now liberated from silver and napkins. Words begin as comments flow Around the space. One leads, others follow. Some with...

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The process of writing and acquiring agents.

What do writers do when they receive a response from an agent that reads: Many thanks for giving me the opportunity to read a sample of your work.  I enjoyed reading what you sent, but I am afraid that after much consideration I am going to have to pass on it. The agent gives no reason, no feedback, no opinion. The writer takes these comments in stride and forges on with their work. If you as a writer have a thin skin or don’t like...

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Book club guest in Decatur for book “Claddagh Pool.”

I recently attended a book club group in Decatur, as a guest, and discussed the book “Claddagh Pool.” The topic of shape-shifting and mysticism was discussed by a number of members. They really liked the crows and their appearance throughout the story. Also the idea of being able to shift from one level of being into another. Before I completed “Claddagh Pool,” I decided to add this whole dimension to the story and the...

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Eyes in the wood.

    Eyes in the Wood.   Someone said to go there. To walk down the tree-lined lane And enter the moss covered passageway Of beech and hazel. Deeper now with thicker moss beneath my feet, I step back into the past, And wonder whose steps I have followed Into the darkening shadows. Silence is everywhere. Moss covered and listening always To my next step back in time, Where night creatures roam about. I step around a...

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A river poem.

Slaney   Oily river flows toward the widening space Of  Norse Gods creeping below the tidal fall. The rolling waves move inexorably downstream As the exiting tide adds freshness to its salty taste. Deeper here and greener with a tinge of brown. The folding wefts of water make rivulets In the passage from brackish and then to salt. The wind scurries across the uneven planes to rippling squall. Dark stones watch from the...

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