Getting my butt in gear

The deadline for submissions for the annual KaKaLaK Anthology of Carolina Poets is sneaking up on me. Entries are due on Wednesday, and I still don’t have them together, let alone turned in. So I’m sorta working on that tonight. It’s kinda depressing, taking inventory of what worthwhile pieces I’ve written since last year. I’ve got a handful I’m happy with, but they all read the same. I mean, for the most part they’re all confessional mommy pieces. Squishy Hallmark fuzzy (but not cute or quaint, I hope), but still… . But then, that’s the sort that they’ve accepted of mine the past 2 years, so maybe it’s the way to go. The only piece I’m considering that’s an exception to that theme is one based on a dream and written in the vein of Denise Duhamel‘s “Sex with a Famous Poet.” Except nowhere near as entertaining. And I’m not entirely sure I’d be ready for having my “Frenching a Famous Pop-Musician” in print. But I’ll probably submit it anyhow: if the editors &/or judge thinks it’s print worthy, it’s time for me to get over it & myself.

I’ll be able to pull together a reasonable poetry submission. Nothing, though, that I feel will qualify for a prize, unfortunately. But maybe something worth printing. The tough part comes in with the art entry I wanted to send in. I really have nothing but unimplemented ideas. Which stinks. Especially since I feel like I would have a chance if I’d send something.

Oh well. I’ll kick myself if I don’t get art together, but between work & clutter, I’m not sure how that can happen.

Expectant Realizations

Last week Peanut and I had our monthy check-up. It was extra quick
and everything’s looking good. So there’s not too much to say about that…

Peanut’s been kicking and rolling and hiccuping and wiggling a lot lately.

Of course when Aunt Laura came to visit a couple weeks ago, that was when Peanut
decided to be much much “quieter” than usual. (I think the kid got worn
out from all the sommersaults the day before.) But lately, nearly anytime I sit
still, you can see my belly move like St. Nick’s “bowl full of jelly.”

I’ve been feeling like an Alien extra…

In other news, I’ve decided to post a poem I wrote a few months ago.

It just makes sense that it should be on Peanut’s page. So… read on.

Expectant Realizations: Three Senryu

I.

Relativity

She’s only sixteen
months old; in just seven more
she will be an aunt

II.

Trade-off

Conception brings life
to the womb and death to the
mother’s appetite.

III.

Understanding

Parental joy comes
with the ready acceptance
of God’s surprises.

©JAC 11/26/2003