“I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.”
-Bob Dylan

Today is 17 September 2008 – my 42nd birthday.  It’s also the birthday of two completely different writers I very much respect: Ken Kesey (author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, perhaps the greatest novel of its decade, and one of the best ever) and William Carlos Williams (physician and Pulitzer Prize-winning poet).  Ken died in 2001 and would be 73 years old today.  W.C. died in 1963 and would be 125.   I’ve begun the process of adding all of Williams’ pre-1923 works to the Crisis Chronicles Online Library (everything he published after 1922 is subject to copyright restrictions).  To see an index of Williams works I’ve posted so far, click http://library.crisischronicles.com/categories/Williams%20(W.C.).aspx.  I haven’t yet procured permission to post Kesey’s work, but I hope to do so eventually.

It’s been a dry month for me poetically.  Since writing my epic Identity Crisis about a month ago, and then in the wake of my successful first featured reading on 23 August, I’ve found neither time nor the inclination/inspiration to write much of my own.  Been a bit more focused on others’ poetry, though I have posted a few samples of my decade(s) old poetry for your (and my own) amusement….

Tuesday morning I posted a cool video by performance poetry pioneer Chocolate Waters in the Online Library (please click here to check that out).  And I have two pieces by one-time Elyria, Ohio, resident Sherwood Anderson set up to post in the library at 9 a.m. Eastern time on Wednesday, before many of you will have the chance to read this blog [update: they’re online now – War and Senility].  Might add more Williams works as well, to celebrate his birthday, if time permits….

I had to take our dog Lady to the vet to get spayed Tuesday morning.  Since she can’t go up and down stairs til she recovers and our other two dogs are not likely to leave her alone while she heals, Mom is keeping Lady for us for a week or so.  I miss her.  And so do the dogs.

Geez, I feel like I’m about to fall asleep on the computer – haven’t been getting enough zzzs lately.  So I don’t even remember what I was planning to write about. 

Oh yeah… I wasn’t really going to write a blog.  I just planned to post a shitty old birthday poem I wrote in prison not long after the parole board “flopped” me in 1998.  Yep, it’s the 10-year anniversary of this embarrassing poem – so I guess that if I don’t share it now, I’ll never share it at all.  Here it is, then.  And since it sucks eggs, I give you permission to throw eggs at your computer screens:

Happy Birthday
(17 Sept. 1998, from my journal Meditations and Improvisations)

People and places like you are why
I’ll never believe in God
You ripped the soul from a man who loved only love
And peace and beautiful skies.
You took me to heavenly heights
And I was this close to believing
When you pushed me off a cloud
And laughed at my screaming.
You failed me, my God,
And you dare to condemn me
For failing to believe when it’s
People and places like you
Who made me this way.