Pushcart Nomination from Rattle for "The Gray Man"
PUSHCART NOMINATION FROM RATTLE FOR "THE GRAY MAN"
I received a nomination for the Pushcart Prize from the journal Rattle. It was a special thrill because they receive so many poems every year and can only select six poems to nominate. More importantly, it was a chance to share a deeply personal story that resonated with many people who do not even know me. That is always a great feeling for a writer.
The poem is based on my visit to see my father in a nursing home where he was placed because he had Parkinson's Disease, and we did not have enough family members who could take care of him. An important section of this long poem is my effort to say "I love you" to my father. Love was always understood and not something spouted off to each other in our family. Yet there was never any doubt about that love.
In section one, I use the metaphor of trying to read the subtitles on an Ingmar Bergman movie which used to be blocked out when someone on screen was wearing white. Thus, while I was staring at my father's sleeping body on his bed, I was trying to comprehend our life together by staring at the white sheets. I am very proud of that metaphor. There is always the question of whether or not my audience knows what I am talking about. I guess an author cannot worry about that.
Here is a link to the news and the poem itself:
https://www.rattle.com/info/news/
I received a nomination for the Pushcart Prize from the journal Rattle. It was a special thrill because they receive so many poems every year and can only select six poems to nominate. More importantly, it was a chance to share a deeply personal story that resonated with many people who do not even know me. That is always a great feeling for a writer.
The poem is based on my visit to see my father in a nursing home where he was placed because he had Parkinson's Disease, and we did not have enough family members who could take care of him. An important section of this long poem is my effort to say "I love you" to my father. Love was always understood and not something spouted off to each other in our family. Yet there was never any doubt about that love.
In section one, I use the metaphor of trying to read the subtitles on an Ingmar Bergman movie which used to be blocked out when someone on screen was wearing white. Thus, while I was staring at my father's sleeping body on his bed, I was trying to comprehend our life together by staring at the white sheets. I am very proud of that metaphor. There is always the question of whether or not my audience knows what I am talking about. I guess an author cannot worry about that.
Here is a link to the news and the poem itself:
https://www.rattle.com/info/news/
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