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Author: James Brush

James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.

Taptaptap… Hello? Is This Thing Still On?

August 6, 2012 • • 2 Comments
Barton Springs 2007

I guess so. As with my last accidental hiatus back in 2008, my site was hacked while I was away. This was due to not upgrading WordPress just like last time. I’ve done that now and have made some decisions for simplicity’s sake.

First off, I’ve switched over to a minimally modified version of one of the WordPress out-of-the-box themes. This will keep it updated and therefore more secure since I don’t have time to constantly update my old homemade theme to account for changes in php calls and theme functions. Plus, it was starting to look a bit jacked up so Coyote Mercury is now wearing Twenty Ten, which is what I’ve been using at a gnarled oak for 2 years now, and I rather like it.

Speaking of a gnarled oak, I’m closing it up. Not because I’m done with micropoetry but because maintaining two blogs just isn’t sustainable for me. Call it downsizing, but at least there were no layoffs. The entire gnarled oak staff is now here at Coyote Mercury. I posted my micros here during NaPoWriMo, and I liked how they fit in with everything so I’ve made it permanent. I’ll keep the old site up but unmaintained for the most part. If you’ve been reading there, thanks, I hope you’ll visit here and if you’re only interested in my micro poems, here’s the category link for my small stones and the small stones category RSS for subscribing to just that feed, though I hope you’ll consider subscribing to the main feed.

I’ve also updated the publications pages and created a book page with links to info and reviews about my books including Birds Nobody Loves, which now has its own page with both videos and links to all reviews.

Now, let’s see if I can get around to doing some more blogging.

NaPoWriMo Redux

May 4, 2012 • • 1 Comment

For the third year in a row, I attempted the NaPoWriMo poem-a-day thing. I managed 34 poems, one each day, 22 of which were small stones and the rest longer form poems. I always have mixed feelings about this as it tends to upset my usual inclination to do some revision before posting. Not that there wasn’t revision, just very little. Still, I think I have some things to work with.

In the past, I’ve managed to write a few April poems that I wind up liking, but this year I’m not so sure. I’m just happy that I was able to write every day, something of a small accomplishment in and of itself. For a while now, the past year really, I’ve been trying to find a way back into daily writing and now that sleep and restful nights are becoming more common, I’m finding the time to get back in touch with that part of myself.

As I said a few years ago after napowrimo, the time spent not writing is just as important as the time spent writing and that hasn’t changed, but carving out a little time to write has brought a bit more balance and even clarity to my days. I am the sort of writer who writes regardless of whether or not inspiration strikes, but if I don’t write every day, I won’t be ready when it does.

I’m still trying to make sense of writing and my relationship to it. I suppose I always will, but I do know that sitting and writing something—anything—every day is critically important whether what I write is good or a rambling post like this one.

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Kudos to some of my fellow poem-a-day writers: Deb, Angie and Joseph whose poems I read and greatly enjoyed even if I didn’t comment as much as I should have.

I’m eagerly looking forward to the arrival of my copies of two new books: Ancient Lights by Dick Jones and The Most Beautiful Thing by Fiona Robyn.

Toward Home

April 30, 2012 • • 3 Comments

I drag my tired, sweating body high up Enchanted Rock, gaze out through the wind at what surely thrilled even the Comanche in their wildest cowboy fighting days. From this rock in the sky, I can see the ancient highway binding the horizons. I remember oceans on each end, all the stories written in the asphalt and the sky between. Civilization so long gone, only the old man in the ranger’s hat remembers anything but vultures, yet home lies just over that hill, down that endless road.

—

And with a prose poem, that’s the end of another year of napowrimo. I managed to write poetry every day: 22 small stones and 12 long poems including 2 ghazals, 1 pantoum and 2 prose poems. I’ll write something more reflective of the experience in the next few days, but for now I’m happy I managed to do this.

Now for a shameless plug: the paperback edition of my book is still on sale at Amazon through the end of the month, which is only a few more hours.

Most Beautiful Thing

April 24, 2012 • • 8 Comments
US 290 East

Most Beautiful Thing

highway, the highway, oh beautiful thing
flowing under a circling sky
our son asleep, eastbound
wildflower spring, old prairie towns

flowing under a circling sky
blackland prairie, gnarled oaks
wildflower spring, old prairie towns
cedar along barbed wire fence rows

blackland prairie, gnarled oaks
long rolling hills, windblown grass
cedar along barbed wire fence rows
speeding trucks, dusty roads

long rolling hills, windblown grass
our son asleep, eastbound
speeding trucks, dusty roads
highway, the highway, oh beautiful road

—

This is inspired by Fiona Robyn’s new novel The Most Beautiful Thing. Since I’m doing napowrimo, I figured I’d use it as a prompt for today since this is the day Fiona is blogsplashing the book by offering the Kindle version for free. I haven’t read it yet, but I’ve read her novel Thaw, which I enjoyed very much.