what's the deal with publishing poetry?

I know I tend to get ahead of myself sometimes, cart before horse and all that jazz.

This is definitely one of those times.

BUT.

What are the rules around publishing poetry and prose on a blog? Sometimes, when you enter a contest or submit a piece to a magazine the regulations state it must be unpublished material. Does my blog count as a something?

According to the CBC Literary Awards it does.

Uggh. So that means that I can't post my poems on here if I want to submit them to something like the CBC LAs. Of course that's just one contest, but such regulations are of concern to me.

Why? Let's introspect, shall we.

Reason 1 - Up until now my creative output has been an inconsequential, unenviable mess, so when I actually do finish something it takes on far more significance than it should. Each finished piece is a symbol, something to signify ALL the potential I'm convinced rattles around in my brain.

Reason 2 - Stemming from 1, if I consider each finished piece a master-work I'm instantly convinced of its dearness and value. Something of great worth of course needs to be cherished and only launched into the world at an appropriate moment, an instant where all eyes are watching and all mouths are ready to shout its praises.

Those moments don't come around too often. In fact, if one thought for about three seconds they would realize that such convoluted logic sound more like excuse making. A way to avoid ever finding out if what I'm doing is actually good, and so...

Reason 3 - This reason is a bit of a mess, bear with me, but we can generally say the third reason I am writing this inane post is confidence.

a - As mentioned above, if I talk about publishing something or submitting something it takes attention away from the act of publishing or submitting (or the lack of action) and my untalented deceit is never revealed!

b - Stemming from 2 is another facet of confidence; FEAR! On some level I'm afraid that I won't be able to rally my creative forces ever again. This one can be overcome, simply by doing something. Then doing something new. Then following that second something with another, and a fourth, and a thirty-second (after a 29th) and so on.

To be a creative individual you need to create all the time. Do, do, do, do and do. Not think, suggest and maybe next week. Take artistry seriously. As Canadian poet David W. McFadden ( a fella I've mentioned before) said, "From Grade 11 till now I've been writing poems every day, or thinking about it a lot on the occasional day I'd miss. To me an artist had to work every day, it had to be his entire life, or he was a fake."

A fake eh? Sounds familiar. So all I need to do is write a poem a day for the next 40 years? Well, maybe I should just take the meaning of his words and apply them personally.

And reason number...I don't even know. Am I onto italicized sub-sub-headings by this stage? My next point doesn't necessarily follow from the others, I just want to include it somehow, so...

Reason 3bi - I've mentioned this before, but thinking in terms of a best sellers and smash hits is wrong-headed. Chasing the latest trend and not being true to personal creative instincts results in shallow, unformed pieces. Mere shadows of what other original people were doing weeks, months and years before.

Stick with what you love and find hilarious, however, and at the end of the day you get something that you at least find enjoyable. If it finds fans in other like-minded souls that's great, but if it doesn't, who cares?

And so I struggle. Wanting to create something that receives recognition, worrying that personal notions of grandeur might be pin-pricked and deflated (not necessarily a bad thing), and simply wanting to create and push things out there regardless of the venue. Maybe even get to a point where I'm comfortable enough with myself that I know there will be other poems after this one and that I'll have another short story idea.

And I think I'm getting there, becoming more willing to release things into the world. Able to set aside all the above mentioned concerns. And if it does turn out I have created the greatest thing ever I'm sure it will take care of itself.

What set all this off?

I'm working on a poem entitled my bedroom floor on a Wednesday just after 8 in the evening (or sweat as communication). With a name like that how can it NOT be the greatest thing ever?

I was actually thinking about not posting it on here, but after writing everything I've just written I don't think that's possible.

Now you all have something to look forward to!

bike ride (of a few weeks ago)

It's a lovely day out there. I don't have time to go riding today but I did a few weeks ago. There's a path that parallels the railway from Landsdowne to Cariboo Ave. Apparently it's going to be extended south, and maybe north when they're done driving all those pilings (see below).

There are lots of old factories along the route. Some have been turned into storage or offices.

I hope they leave some smoke stacks standing. They're great. There is quite a bit of graffiti. I didn't take too many pictures of it, but this one had some great colour. Look at that sky too! It was a funny day. Rain was expected but before the main force arrived periodic vanguards launched sharp, quick and cold drizzle attacks.
But then the sun would come out.

On the other side of the tracks some people were already ensconced in some nice looking apartments.
Some of the buildings had already been torn down and replaced by attempts at mimicry. It's a nice try but the bricks just aren't weathered enough. The GO Trains that run through the area are diesel powered but I don't think their exhaust is going to mark the new bricks like the smokier trains of the past.

Save old bricks!

There's actually a hullabaloo from the local residents concerned about air quality with an increase of diesel locomotives.
Vroom! Vroom!
I assume this land will become condos. Maybe office space I suppose given proximity to the rail line, but if you don't know what a construction site today in Toronto is destined for residential is usually the safer bet.

It was a good day for the sky and verticality in general.

The bike trail ends at Cariboo. Along the trail each road was marked with some nice sculpture, giant sheets of rusty metal with the stenciled names cut out.

Just north of Cariboo is a rail junction, I think the junction for which The Junction neighbourhood is named. Looking at a map there aren't many other rail junctions around and about, and according to this article The Junction centres on Keele and Dundas, just to the west, so I must be right.

On the left is a drill, on the right a pile driver. They are pounding pilings here to support the increased train traffic. Hurray for sleeper communities as long as they DO NOT add more cars to the streets.

Vertical!
Do you see that puff? That pops out on every clang. It didn't take me very long to catch it because the thing must clang every 7 seconds or so. Clang! Clang! I can understand why the neighbours are complaining and not enjoying their aural lives right now.

I've driven some t-bars in my time, and that's nothing compared to this ruckus. Maybe if I had steam driven, piston arms. Hmm. Maybe. Something to think about...

This is one of the GO stations, Bloor, further south on the path. I like the overgrown look of the rail bridge and my orange bridge is pretty sharp too.
Just another rail line. This one splits off from the one I was following at Landsdowne and travels more directly north. It ends up at Downsview airport, and probably beyond. Well meshed infrastructure gives me a warm feeling inside.

It would have been a different place when the trains were running through the guts of the city on a regular basis. The Big Smoke indeed. This smaller line has road crossings, as opposed to bridges, so there would have been lots of waiting. Given that the advent of rail travel in the 19th century signaled the new faster modern life it's interesting that I now think of it in terms of slowing people down. It says something about how people are increasingly individualized nuclei, enabled, largely through technology, to live removed from the greater society that surrounds them.

Come on LRT! Be finished already. Force people to live face-to-face.