Two of my poems and a work of creative nonfiction are published in this literary anthology. (Book cover sourced online)
FOR THE 16thCONSECUTIVE YEAR, my writing has been selected for publication in the Talking Stick, a literary anthology published by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc based in northern Minnesota.
The editorial board chose two of my poems, “Up North at the Cabin” and “Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire,” and a work of creative nonfiction, “Birthing Everett,” for publication in volume 34, titled Toward the Light. The recently-released book features 128 pieces of writing by 76 writers either from Minnesota or with a strong connection to the state.
I consider it an honor to be published in the Talking Stick, which includes the work of talented writers ranging from novice to well-known. I especially appreciate that entries are blind-judged so each piece stands on its own merits. There were 275 submissions from 119 writers for this year’s competition.
Grandpa Randy and grandchildren Izzy and Isaac follow the pine-edged driveway at the northwoods lake cabin. This is my all-time favorite cabin photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)
I’m particularly excited about two of my pieces published in Toward the Light. Anyone who’s ever spent time at a lake cabin will enjoy my “Up North” poem as it centers on nature and family togetherness. I was in my sixties before I first experienced cabin life. Now I’m building memories with my grandkids each summer at a family member’s lake cabin. That centers this poem.
My grandson Everett, nine months old, plays with his toys in his Madison, Wisconsin, home. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2025)
A grandchild also focuses “Birthing Everett,” a deeply personal story about the birth of my 10-pound grandson in January. My daughter Miranda nearly died during childbirth. I knew I needed to write about this to heal from my own trauma of nearly losing her. I will be forever grateful to the medical team at UnityPoint Health-Meriter Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin, for saving Miranda’s life. You just don’t think of women dying during childbirth any more, but it can, and does, happen.
My fiction, creative nonfiction and poetry has published in all these volumes of The Talking Stick, plus volumes 32 and 33 not pictured here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
WITH ONLY WEEKS until the deadline for an annual writing contest, I am stretching my mind to come up with short stories and poetry that will please not only me, but also the editors of a Minnesota-based literary anthology. It’s not easy, this creative writing. Yet, I enjoy the challenge.
I can’t always explain from whence my fictional stories spring. I’ve written some really dark stuff that has landed me publication and sometimes prizes. Stories with undertones of darkness and violence. Nothing like I’ve experienced in real life, although certainly I’ve faced plenty of dark and trying days.
When I read my second place winning fictional story, “Dear Mother,” at last fall’s Talking Stick 33—Earth Signsbook launch party in northern Minnesota, I qualified my reading with “I don’t know where this dark story came from.” It was implied that the main character killed her abusive mother. The writer who followed me as the first place winner in fiction also wrote a dark story. I don’t recall if Tara or some other writer explained that, in order to reach the light, we need to go through darkness. That resonated with me.
The beginning of “Barbershop Prompt,” published in Talking Stick 31–Escapes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I’ve completed the initial draft of my first piece of fiction for this year’s contest. It, too, includes some dark elements. The community calendar in my local newspaper prompted the story, which I realize may seem rather odd. But, hey, inspiration can strike in the most unlikely of places. A previous work prompted by a sign at Bridge Square Barbers in Northfield earned me a second place in creative nonfiction in 2022.
Now three years later, with the printed community calendar of events lying on my office desk, I glanced from newspaper to computer screen as the idea of a story began to take shape. Once I finished the intro, words began to fly (OK, admittedly not always) from my brain to the keyboard to the screen. The draft is saved, awaiting a second look in a few days.
This sharing library in Pine River is inspiring my next creative work. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2024)
Now I’m on to my next piece of writing. A photo I took of a sharing library (like a Little Free Library) in Pine River is serving as my inspiration for a story that has yet to unfold. But I see the possibilities in the many love-themed/titled books shelved inside that library adorned with a Peace/Love/Books sticker.
Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare. Lunkers Love Nightcrawlers, author unknown to me. Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom, packed with life lessons, including that of love. Sin Killer by Larry McMurtry, a book of adventure, humor and romance on the American frontier. And then Absolute Power by David Baldacci, about a President “caught” with a billionaire’s wife. That title seems so relatable to today. Absolute power. But writing contest rules call for no political or religious rants, meaning I will need to steer clear of politics.
And so I’ll see where this idea goes. If a plot develops in my mind, if a story flows into something that may, or may not, be dark.
A Halloween mask and costumes for sale at Something for All, a thrift shop in Lonsdale, MN. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2024)
OCTOBER 31. Halloween, the one day when scary is celebrated in a big way. But October 31 also marks another notable day, the final day in Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Domestic violence is far scarier than any ghoulish, frightening, unsettling costume or event. Domestic violence and abuse are real. Real scary.
Warning signs of relationship abuse from an event held in Faribault many years ago.
Abuse can be physical, psychological/mental and/or emotional. Death, injuries, scars, trauma and so much more result from abuse which is, at its core, all about manipulation, power and control. Those can be insidious or blatant.
My fictional story, “Evidence,” is published in this anthology.
With that brief background, I am sharing a fictional story printed in Talking Stick 32—Twist in the Road, a literary anthology published by northern Minnesota based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. I wrote “Evidence,” which won an honorable mention in the 2023 Talking Stick writing competition. Please read my story and then my comments following.
Some victims of domestic abuse/violence flee with minimal belongings in a single bag or suitcase. Some leave with nothing at all. Leaving marks the most dangerous time period when exiting an abusive relationship. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Evidence
She waited inside the bus station, body molded into a hard plastic chair, battered suitcase at her feet nudging shoes that needed a good polishing. Beverly felt restless, lost, as if at any moment she would awaken from her nightmare of a life. She pressed her right thumb into her sweaty left palm, a soothing habit that sometimes helped calm her. But not today.
Only hours earlier she’d fled to this place after tossing several changes of clothing alongside her diary in the bag now resting on the sticky, worn floor soiled by a thousand feet, a thousand stories. Today her story.
Her mind drifted to those first years when she wrote in flowery script, embellishing her writing with hearts. Love, so much love. He cherished her, loved her, embraced her with words and flowers and praise. Until he didn’t.
It was all so subtle, how Thomas, not Tom, chose to slip hurtful words into conversations, wearing her down. Day by day. Complaints of undone laundry and cold dinner and dirty dishes. And then the accusations flew. Where were you? Why were you speaking to him? Why can’t you ever do anything right? Then he slapped her. Repeatedly. Often.
She felt beaten. Weak. Exhausted. Trapped. Her writing reflected that, emotional words looping across the lined paper. Uneven and running together and sometimes nearly unreadable. Tears traced through the ink and wrinkled the pages.
For the longest time, she endured, pulled inside herself, determined she could do better, be better, love him more. Yet, it was never enough. Thomas continued to berate her, to find fault in everything she said and did. And she recorded it all in the journal zippered inside the suitcase stuffed in the back of their closet, the suitcase now at her feet. Evidence.
Beverly pulled herself back to reality, checked the time on the massive clock inside the bus station. Soon the Greyhound would roll in. She grabbed the worn handle of the battered bag, rose from the uncomfortable chair, and headed toward the boarding area. The momentum of hurrying passengers, their shoes slapping against the speckled linoleum, carried her. The bus doors pulsed open. Beverly stepped inside, handing her ticket to the driver. Her mood shifted, lightened with each step down the aisle until she saw him through the window, face flashing anger, fists clenched at his sides.
#
This text was published in a book, “She Stays,” by Eric Staab-Absher, director of HOPE Center in Faribault.(Text copyright of Erica Staab-Absher)
COMMENTS: If you recognize yourself or someone you love in my fictional story, first know that you are not alone. Help is available through organizations that will support you and/or your family. That may be a shelter or an advocacy/outreach organization focused on preventing domestic violence, providing education and resources, and simply being there for you. If you’re not ready for that step, talk to a trusted friend or family member.Seek help.
Leaving an abuser is not easy. It’s scary and difficult. Even dangerous. But you (or someone you love) are so worth living a life free from manipulation, control, abuse and/or violence.
VIOLENCE FREE MINNESOTAhas released its “2023 Homicide Report: Relationship Abuse in Minnesota.” In 2023, there were 40 confirmed victims of intimate partner and domestic violence-related homicides in the state. That’s the highest number since tracking began in 1989. Gunshot is the leading cause of deaths. This report honors victims across Minnesota with photos and information. It’s packed with statistics and other valuable information and is well worth your read. Click here to read the full report or a summary of it.
Turek’s Auction Service, 303 Montgomery Ave. S.E. (Highway 21), Montgomery, has been “serving Minnesota since 1958.”(Minnesota Prairie Roots edited and copyrighted file photo February 2014)
AUCTIONS ARE PART of my rural DNA. As such, a photo I took ten years ago of an auction barn on the edge of Montgomery, Minnesota, inspired me to write a poem. I entered “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn” in the 2014 The Talking Stick writing competition. It earned second place in poetry and publication in The Talking Stick 23, Symmetry, a literary journal published by the northern Minnesota-based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. It also earned the praise of noted Minnesota poet and poetry judge Margaret Hasse. She’s authored six full-length collections of poetry.
First, my poem:
Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn
Shoulder brushes shoulder as bidders settle onto plank benches
in the tightness of the arched roof auction barn,
oil stains shadowing the cement beneath their soles,
where a farmer once greased wheel bearings on his Case tractor.
The auctioneer chants in a steady cadence
that mesmerizes, sways the faithful fellowship
to raise hands, nod heads, tip bidding cards
in reverent respect of an aged rural liturgy.
Red Wing crock, cane back rocker, a Jacob’s ladder quilt,
goods of yesteryear coveted by those who commune here,
sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.
In her critique of my poem, Hasse wrote:
“I loved how you turned a humdrum occasion of bidding on antiques in an old barn into a closely observed and luminous occasion. The writer John Ciiardi once wrote that close and careful observation can “leak a ghost.” The surprise of your poem was the elevation of a commercial or material enterprise into a spiritual gathering—with a fellowship, liturgy, reverent respect, and people who commune. The ending—visual and concrete—was just right. The poet Franklin Brainerd wrote a poem something to the effect, “in a world of crystal goblets, I come with my paper cup.” There’s something both unpretentious and appealing about “sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.”
Hasse’s comment reflects that she understands the spirit and spirituality of my poem. It was a joy to write. As I recall, the words flowed easily from my brain to keyboard to screen as I visualized bidders inside that auction barn, like congregants in a church. When poetry works like that, it’s magical and fulfilling and beyond beautiful.
My sweet mom, featured on the Parkview Facebook page, Mother’s Day 2020. (Photo credit: Parkview Senior Living)
IN EVERYTHING I WRITE, truth rests. In creative nonfiction, more than any other genre, truth writes the story. In poetry and fiction, life experiences, observations and emotions weave into poems and stories. Not necessarily the full truth, but based on reality. The adage “write what you know” rings true for me.
Five of my works (poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction) published in Fine Lines. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)
The book title, Fine Lines fits my selected entry, a story about the Sunday evening phone calls I made to my mom. Every. Week. I looked forward to them, as did Mom. My short story is one of raw emotions, of grief and pain. And today, days before Mother’s Day, seems an appropriate time to share this piece of my writing.
I hope it sparks an understanding that simple connections linking us to those we love are to be valued. When Mom could no longer hold or talk on a phone in the years before her January 2022 death, I felt a deep loss. I missed her voice. I missed her stories. I missed sharing my life with her. And today, I miss her, as I try to recall her voice, the words she spoke, yet always remembering the love we shared.
Parkview Senior Living in Belview, where my mom lived for many years. While 120 miles separated us, Mom and I remained connected via our weekly calls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The Weekly Phone Call
It’s 6:30 p.m. on Sunday when I punch the green phone icon.
“Hello, Arlene speaking,” she answers, the indiscernible dialogue of a television blaring in the background.
“Hi, this is Audrey,” I say, then wait while she turns off her TV. “How are you doing?”
Her answer never deviates. She is tired and blames the weather. Already sadness threads through my thoughts. Inside the sheltered walls of a care center, she can’t feel the bite of a winter prairie wind, the drench of rainfall, the smothering humidity of a July afternoon. She feels only artificial heat and cold while sequestered in her over-sized dorm style room.
My mind drifts as Mom laments an in-house obsession with BINGO, recounts an escape attempt by a friend—big and exciting news—and complains of failed jets in the whirlpool tub. I listen, insert appropriate responses, and await the usual repetition of information.
When she repeats herself, I say nothing. There is no point. My love prevails in silence. But inside, my anger rises at her declining memory. I want the mom who never forgot a birthday, who remembered what she ate for lunch, who knew names. I miss her undeniably kind and positive spirit. I am grieving.
But I tell her none of this. Instead, I end our conversation with “I love you” and a promise to call her next Sunday, at 6:30 p.m.
This year my short story, “Josephine Holding Deloris,” earned honorable mention in creative nonfiction. The story connects a 1 ½-inch square vintage family photo to my life experiences.
The beginning of my award-winning story.
Nonfiction judge Jill Johnson, author of several books, including Little Minnesota: 100 Towns Around 100, praises my work. “Thank you for sharing your touching story about your grandmother and aunt. You connected the tiny size of the photo to the small moments of life. You allowed the reader a vivid description of mother and daughter and brought the connection full circle. Keep writing!”
My poem, “Final Harvest,” and second piece of creative nonfiction, “A Quick Guide to Practicing Minnesota Nice,” were also chosen for publication in Insights, The Talking Stick, Volume 29.
This year’s book features 139 poems and stories (selected from 300 submissions) by 92 Minnesota-connected writers. My writing has published many times in The Talking Stick and earned multiple honors.
Copies of the latest book and past volumes are available for purchase at jackpinewriters.com. On the back cover of Insights, the editors note, “In the midst of social distancing, in the midst of mask wearing and Plexiglas shields, we are all grieving the changes in our world. But let’s keep one thing the same—you can still curl up with a good book and read. You can open the pages of Talking Stick 29 and see what your fellow Minnesota writers have written, and some how, perhaps, we can all feel a little bit closer.”
I’d encourage you to order a copy of this collection featuring so many talented writers. That includes Bernadette Hondl Thomasy, a native of Owatonna and a reader of this blog. Her “Mother’s Mojo” also earned honorable mention in creative nonfiction. She co-authored the book, Under Minnesota Skies, with her sister Colleen Hondl Gengler. Minnesota, in my opinion, has produced many gifted writers in all genres. And you’ll find a fine sampling of those creatives in Insights, The Talking Stick, Volume 29.
TWO READINGS BEFORE MINE,Norma Thorstad Knapp stepped to the microphone to share “How Much She Had Lost.” As she read of her aging mother’s desire to waltz one more time, emotions rose. My throat constricted. Tears seeped from my eyes. Thinking of my 85-year-old mother, I wondered how I could possibly compose myself enough to read my short story.
I pose in front of Blueberry Pines Golf Club, setting for The Talking Stick book release party. Photo by Randy Helbling.
I signaled my husband for a tissue, then wiped my eyes. I sipped water through a straw. And I struggled to pull myself together before I stood behind the podium in this room full of writers and their supporters gathered at Blueberry Pines Golf Club between Menahga and Park Rapids for the release of Fine Lines, The Talking Stick, Volume 26.
Too soon, Sharon Harris, co-editor along with her niece, Tarah L. Wolff, introduced me and my story, “Art Obsession.”
Reading “Art Obsession.” Photo by Larry Risser Photography, Minneapolis.
I was on, reading the words that this year earned an honorable mention in fiction. Four other pieces, among the six I submitted, also published: “Grocery Shopping” (fiction); “A Lot of Prairie and a Little New York” and “The Weekly Phone Call” (both creative nonfiction); and “Not Quite Perfect Penmanship” (poetry).
It’s an honor to have my writing published in this outstanding collection of works by Minnesota writers or those with a strong connection to Minnesota. The 2017 anthology includes 152 pieces by 100 writers. I don’t envy the task of The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc editorial board in selecting stories and poems for publication from among 370 submissions by 159 writers. Noted writers LouAnn Shepard Muhm, Marge Barrett and Rochelle Hurt selected the first and second place winners from the board’s top picks.
As I listened to stories and poems for several hours with minimal comprehension of time, I delighted in the talent of these writers. Marlene Mattila Stoehr drew me in with her “Spurned Heirloom” poem that left me pondering whether my family treasures will some day, too, end up as thrift store cast-offs.
I laughed at Charles Johnson’s “Jimmy Gets an Earful” poem that sounded, oh, so Minnesotan to my ears.
The book cover photo was taken by Tarah L. Wolff.
A strong sense of place, of Minnesota, imprints upon the pages of The Talking Stick. I can relate to the settings, the experiences, the observations and more crafted into so many of the pieces in this exceptional anthology.
After the readings, some of us socialized. That’s Randy and me at the end of the table. I am seated next to Sharon Harris. Photo courtesy of Larry Risser Photography, Minneapolis.
This book is a labor of love for co-managing editor Sharon Harris. She holds a passion for writing and for this area of Minnesota. After the readings, a group of us gathered in the bar to celebrate and to talk. I’d never met Sharon, although we’ve corresponded and talked via phone many times through the years. Past commitments have kept me from attending previous The Talking Stick release parties. Sharon is as delightful in person as I anticipated. Her appreciation for the craft of writing is evident in her dedication to creating this anthology.
I felt an energetic vibe and sense of community among all of the writers. We share a love of writing. That passion flowed in words read to an appreciative audience gathered on a grey Saturday afternoon in a sprawling log cabin style building tucked among the jackpines of northern Minnesota.
THIS TIME OF YEAR, when daylight fades too early into evening darkness, when I want nothing more than to stay indoors cozied against the Minnesota cold, I find myself gathering books. Stashing, stacking, sequestering them in my home.
And then I read, snugged into a corner of the reclining sofa that no longer reclines (unless the husband yanks on the redneck handle he’s improvised to replace the broken pull). I tuck into a fleece throw in hues that linger autumn.
Then I read. Of mystery in prose and poetry. Of fictional places. Of memories. Words wrapping stories around me. Writers writing so I can read. Of their experiences. Of their imaginations. Of their struggles and joys and moments.
Often I choose to read local, a subconscious decision tracing to my years writing book reviews for a now-defunct Minnesota magazine. But I am also drawn to Minnesota writers because of the connection I have to them. We are, or were, of this place, of these people.
In honor of Minnesota reads, I direct you to these books:
Under Minnesota Skies: John and Dorothy Hondl Family History and Farm Memories, penned by sisters Bernadette Hondl Thomasy and Colleen Hondl Gengler, is promoted as a family memoir of farm life in the 1940s-1960s that reflects on Czech and German heritage. The farm referenced in the book sits near Owatonna and has been in the Hondl family since 1881.
I can relate to much of the book’s content. The hard work and joys of farm life. Making hay. Filling silo. Tending livestock. This memoir, too, prompts long-forgotten memories of licking Gold Bond Stamps, of the South St. Paul Stockyard, of listening to WCCO 8-3-0, of driving tractor, of yearning for books.
Turning the pages of Under Minnesota Skies is like flipping the pages of a photo album detailing rural life. Except in words. Email the authors at kbthomasy at aol.com or dcgeng at frontiernet.net to purchase an autographed copy. Or buy the book at Little Professor Book Center in Owatonna or online at amazon.
Voices: Past & Present, The Talking Stick Volume 25, is an eclectic collection of writing by Minnesota authors, or those with a strong Minnesota tie. Published by the northern Minnesota Jackpine Writers’ Bloc, this anthology includes 139 poems, 26 pieces of creative nonfiction and 20 works of fiction from 118 writers. So a good sampling of Minnesota talent.
Getting published in this book is a competitive process. Two of my poems, “Confessions in a Grocery Store Parking Lot” and “Prairie Garden Memories” are among the works printed in this 25th anniversary edition. Order on amazon.
Finally, anyone interested in rural life, should read the books penned by prolific husband and wife team Gordon and Nancy Fredrickson of Lakeville. The pair offer children’s picture books in their “A Farm Country” and “If I Were a Farmer” series. They have also written American Farm Heritage and poetry volumes for adults.
The Fredricksons’ books truly are a tribute to the rural way of life. These books can be purchased on the authors’ website, via amazon or at these Minnesota locations: Secret Attic in Northfield; The Old Hotel, New Market; and Bongards Cheese Shop, Bongards.
TELL ME: What local books have you read? What local books are you purchasing as Christmas gifts?
LAST SATURDAY I SHOULD HAVE BEEN in northern Minnesota reading my poem, “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn,” at a book release party.
Should have been mingling with other writers at Blueberry Pines, between Park Rapids and Menahga, at lunch, during a writer’s workshop and during readings from The Talking Stick Volume 23, Symmetry.
But, instead, I was cleaning my mom’s house in preparation for putting it on the market. It’s a matter of priorities and setting aside one’s own desires to do what must be done.
While others were enjoying the fellowship of many fine Minnesota writers, I was scrubbing walls and woodwork and floors and holding back tears.
Turek’s Auction Service, 303 Montgomery Ave. S.E. (Highway 21), Montgomery, has been “serving Minnesota since 1958.” Daniel Turek, Sr., started the third-generation family business now operated by Dan, Jr. and Travis Turek. They sell everything from antique vases to real estate. Photographing this auction barn last winter inspired my poem.
Oh, yes, I would much rather have been in the Minnesota northwoods reading my prize winning poem. Margaret Hasse, who’s published four collections of poetry, awarded “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn” second place, selected above 89 other poems for that honor.
She wrote:
“I loved how you turned a humdrum occasion of bidding on antiques in an old barn into a closely observed and luminous occasion. The writer John Ciiardi once wrote that close and careful observation can “leak a ghost.” The surprise of your poem was the elevation of a commercial or material enterprise into a spiritual gathering—with a fellowship, liturgy, reverent respect, and people who commune. The ending—visual and concrete—was just right. The poet Franklin Brainerd wrote a poem something to the effect, “in a world of crystal goblets, I come with my paper cup.” There’s something both unpretentious and appealing about “sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.”
I can’t publish the actual poem here. To read it, you’ll need to order a copy of The Talking Stick 23, Symmetry. I’d highly recommend doing so. This anthology features 91 poems, 23 pieces of creative nonfiction and 15 works of fiction from some outstanding Minnesota writers or writers with a strong connection to our state.
The Talking Stick, published annually by the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc, holds a strong reputation, evidenced by the more than 300 submissions from 159 writers. Another one of my poems, “The Promised Land,” and a short story, “Eggs and Bread,” also published in this volume.
Last year I earned honorable mention for my short story, “The Final Chapter.” And before that, my poem, “Hit-and-Run,” also garnered honorable mention.
Such awards reaffirm one’s skills as a writer.
Cornfields snuggle up to Vista Evangelical Lutheran Church in southern Minnesota. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.
In the slight breeze of a July afternoon,
when ninety degrees and humidity press upon me
at the edge of a corn field stretching into forever,
memories rise and shimmer like heat waves.
I see my father’s work laid out before him—
first, seeds dropped into rich black soil,
next, corn rows carefully cultivated,
then fervent prayers for timely rain.
And I remember how he hung onto harvest hope,
to the promise of golden kernels
brimming grain wagons that swayed
and rumbled to the Farmer’s Co-op Elevator.
This the wind-blown corn leaves whisper
while stalks rise toward the prairie sky,
reaching, reaching, reaching
toward the heavens like the faith of a farmer.
I ARRIVED HOME on a recent Saturday afternoon to the answering machine blinking.
When I reached Sharon Harris of the northern Minnesota based Jackpine Writers’ Bloc a few moments later, I was pleased to hear her news. I’d placed second, she said, in the poetry division of The Talking Stick 23 competition with my poem, “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn.”
Such news could not have come at a better time. Just the day prior, my mother had entered a nursing home. I needed to hear something positive.
TS 19 in which my poem, “Hit-and-Run,” received honorable mention.
Getting work accepted into this well-respected literary journal is always an honor. This marks my fifth year in the book in six years of submitting. Twice I’ve earned honorable mentions, for my poem “Hit-and-Run” and for my short story, “The Final Chapter.”
And now this year, I bumped up a spot to get that second place award. Another poem, “The Promised Land,” and a short story, “Eggs and Bread,” will also publish in volume 23.
The Talking Stick editorial team read and considered more than 300 submissions (of poetry, fiction and creative non-fiction) before forwarding their top picks in each of the three divisions to selected “celebrity” judges. Poet Margaret Hasse judged this year’s poetry.
Finishing second, I not only receive a $100 cash prize, but also Hasse’s comments on “Sunday Afternoon at the Auction Barn.” She writes:
I loved how you turned a humdrum occasion of bidding on antiques in an old barn into a closely observed and luminous occasion. The writer John Ciiardi once wrote that close and careful observation can “leak a ghost.” The surprise of your poem was the elevation of a commercial or material enterprise into a spiritual gathering—with a fellowship, liturgy, reverent respect, and people who commune. The ending—visual and concrete—was just right. The poet Franklin Brainerd wrote a poem something to the effect, “in a world of crystal goblets, I come with my paper cup.” There’s something both unpretentious and appealing about “sipping steaming black coffee from Styrofoam cups.”
Hasse gets it. She totally understands my poem, how each well-crafted line defines, as she says, a “spiritual gathering” in a small town auction barn.
If I could share my auction poem with you today, I would. But I’ve signed a contract not to do so for a year.
Suffice to say, this poem, like nearly every other poem I’ve written and/or had published, is rooted in my rural memories, my connection to the land and/or my appreciation for rural Minnesota.
Turek’s Auction Service, 303 Montgomery Ave. S.E. (Highway 21), Montgomery, has been “serving Minnesota since 1958.” Daniel Turek, Sr., started the third-generation family business now operated by Dan, Jr. and Travis Turek. They sell everything from antique vases to real estate.
Specifically, a photograph I took this past winter of a Montgomery, Minnesota, auction barn prompted the idea for this winning poem. I also drew on my experiences attending auctions, albeit not in recent years, to pen the 12 lines of verse.
Likewise, “Lilacs,” a poem I will read this coming Saturday evening, May 10, during the Poet-Artist Collaboration XIII reception at Crossings at Carnegie in Zumbrota, was inspired by my rural rooted memories. (Click here to learn more about that poet-artist collab.)
When I consider my poetry, I clearly hear the rural voice in my words. There’s nothing pretentious about me. I remain, as I always have been, rooted to the land in my writing.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Recent Comments