Tapping the Well
There was once a pattern to everything scribing something beautiful in my mind— in the darkness something looking for light to make shadows so that hiding meant something Dig deep into the earth teeth rattling side to side like shifting stones Cut through loam and roots and shale to find that open space that vast dark cavern that sparkles in light Let it spill onto the forest floor like spreading sunlight Let it shine like stars in oblivion Let it resonate like a mudslide Let it ooze and soak into everything The energy of the thing eludes me now— a mandala in the sand blown away by the cold steady wind of days— the light on my back like a spider scattering moments before me on careless legs through a future that seems to be an end but is still so very far away Up here we see shadows and we breathe We step in shoes over growing things We do not kneel We do not thank We take and we do not return But we will and we should
Jack Beltane writes about memories and music the way Jack White plays guitar.
—Eric Anderson, author of “The Parable of the Room Spinning”
Poetry
Echoes of the Unspoken by Wayne Dodd
The magic of everyday life revealed through emotion and memory. Last lines highlighted (from “On the Page”):
all around us—the mysterious
shapes and sounds they make
Not Poetry
Jack Beltane and the Seven of Pentacles by Jack Beltane
My next novel, now in the drafting process. The work it takes to get a first draft to a second draft is considerable, at least for me. Lots of rewording, reorganizing, and notes of where more needs to be filled in. Last week, it took me about two hours to revise only 15 pages—and that’s without writing a single new word. That’s just red-lining, editing, and moving paragraphs to create (or maintain) that elusive narrative flow.