I just got word that four of my poems have been accepted by Leannane, a South African romantic literary magazine.
This announcement comes from Tod Marshall, Washington State Poet Laureate:
I’m excited to announce Washington 129, an anthology of poems gathered from the people of Washington State. The project will include work from experienced poets and newcomers to the art, young stu…
He didn’t want to love her in only one voice. He wanted to love her with every voice within him. He wanted to learn new voices.
The mother of the man with the tattooed face asked,
Life is hard. Why would you want to make it harder?
He furrowed black satanic signs on his brow and said,
I wish you had told me this before I did: What I did.
Tito Titus, represented by Pleasure Boat Studio
Who by fire?
The grass, amazing green leaves, how fast they grabbed the early Spring hillsides, only a winter past the fire that scrambled over those hills like Hell-in-a-hurry, thousand acre fistfuls of fire that burst into town, burned businesses, torched twenty-four homes, and scorched warehouses with flames that rode the wind like blazing Valkyries.. Now a new Summer nears, grass fades early, blades turn brown and brittle, ready to burn again when a shot of white lightening cracks open the sky, hot energy splits dry air, ignites fresh fuel, throws flaming tumbleweeds across fields verdant only yesterday.
Tito Titus at Pleasure Boat Studio
It’s April again. The Creek roars white,
gets fat in the middle, runs waves
like a river, pulls snowmelt away
from these “unseasonably warm” days.
I hang grape and kiwi vines in nooses
twisted from green garden twine, new
growth stretches taut ‘neath a summery
morning sun. I sip coffee, shake my head.
Another ordinary ominous day.
I wonder if, when Douglas Adams discovered that the meaning of “life, the universe, and everything” is forty-two, a lot of arguments were settled. Existentialists say that life has no meaning other than the meaning we assign to it. Bear with me. I’m close to saying what I want to say. I had an aha! moment today. It came to me that Nothing Matters! Nothing. matters, and THAT is the Cosmic Joke everyone talks about. This makes consideration of whether to commit suicide the deepest philosophical conversation you can have. It’s better, more likely, to make some meaning and live by it. Forty-two, for instance. But then, I’m an optimist..