Archive for March, 2013

Remembering Joie Cook 1951-2013

Posted in Joie Cook with tags , on March 24, 2013 by Scot

joie at 35I am ashamed to say I have had these poems a year and lost them in the pile of everyday life. But the good news is they are not lost now.  I think Joie would understand.  Bad news travels on a slow road to the Ozarks.  I found out about Joie’s passing not too long ago.

I first met her in  books, then through email, and then in a short interview  when I was with Outsider Writers .  She also appeared in my Not Your Bitch series as #4.  I loved her work and talking with her and brought her with me to deuce coupe and rusty truck.  In our interview I asked her her top female poet of all time…I expected someone famous, maybe someone tragic…Joie gave me this:

  Fave female poet of all time:  The little girl with a pen in her hand somewhere in  Nowheresville, Planet Earth—writing her heart out!

Joie Cook: writing her heart out

Posted in Joie Cook with tags on March 24, 2013 by Scot


THE LENGTH      to Edna St. Vincent Millay

Life is so long
In the lit phantasm

Of dulled rooms
With studied glances

We take all we can
In enormous amounts

And never once sit or lay–
To slow down or stop

The candle burns so brightly
At both ends indeed

We never get scorched



From a distance,
We both know we’ll never cross the line.
We both remember
When people surrender to the lover’s trance,
They lose their ability
To add and subtract.

We both wish that I was younger
Or, you, older,
To ensure a developmental foundation
On which to base our lust.

But that’s not going to happen.

So, to love you from a distance
Is the most erotic pose;
Even when my glances catch yours
With the sad eyes of a beggar.

So, all through the night
I am loving loving you
From across the smoky room.



Like a dangerous promotion in a job she hates
Which would lock her into
Routine and ennui

Pushing her into an oblivious race
For time and tranquility

She is fighting love because it owns her now–
Penetrates each particle of bone marrow
And tissues her in,
With its indulgence and fortitude

She is fighting love
However deep or done
An entity in which she reluctantly swims
Diving endlessly into the foam

been in the shop awhile…will leave some rust on for old times sake

Posted in Uncategorized on March 15, 2013 by Scot