Thursday, March 11, 2010

Leave It At That

Allen Field Weitzel

—Allen Field Weitzel, San Jose

For years now I have read with interest the
poems in the New Yorker and Atlantic Monthly,
and questioned who writes these things. Better? Not really,
but certainly accepted. What comes of it? The poem
on page 44 sounds like a glance at
after-life. A subject ridiculed in Poetry 101
classes, along with poems about poems. A sin
for sure, unless you know the editor, or want to. It
remains a mystery. Some entrance into periodical
poetry. When words are clear, they are not boring, nor the
opposite. Still, words do not seem as special
today, as we enjoyed in years gone by.
Typical New Yorker.


Thanks, Allen! Allen Field Weitzel is a 5th-generation San Jose, California native. While attending the California College Of Arts And Crafts in 1965, he sold his first poem. Weitzel is also a freelance writer of how-to business articles. During his writing years, he has been published in over 400 different magazines, periodicals, and anthologies, and has self-published 35 poetry books. His first poetry mentor was the Beat Poet Michael McClure. In the late '60's Allen became friends with Rod McKuen; they remain friends to this day. You can learn more about Allen through the Weitzel website ( or email him at


—Allen Field Weitzel

I don't like it very good when
you're not with me, or when I
can't write one poem for you. When
words, silly or not, chase you away. I
don't like it, not at all, when it is not
me you are thinking of. I don't
like it very good when the child in me
misses you so sadly that I
don't like it very good.


—Allen Field Weitzel

Not a Poet if you haven’t written
a thousand poems and been rejected
equally. Poetry publishing success
rate is 5%, give or take. Editors can get
abrasive, if they answer at all. Cuts can be
deep, especially when editors blast your
favorites. Don’t be a baby. Walk it off. Rub
some dirt on it. Get up and write again. If
no words come out, write an
editorial rebuttal,
in 3/4 time.


—Allen Field Weitzel

Okay, God, so what’s the deal? Does
it get better than this? Do I
continue to give; get less in return? Do
you have a plan, or do I come up with it, and
you approve or disapprove, mostly
without my knowledge? Good thing I’m
learning to be flexible, because where I wanted
to go, and how isn’t
exactly the same. If it’s a joke, you’re
doing a good job of
keeping it to yourself.


—Allen Field Weitzel

Don’t think I’ll ever find you again. Only hope is if
your name or mine is unusual enough to not be
buried in lists of duplicates if we ever decide
to Google each other. Not that we have any
unfinished business we could remember or
even admit to, but sometimes knowing how
well past lovers are doing is its own kind
of security blanket. If we do sneak up on one
another with a surprise email, know now, that I
promise to answer. But for sure, for our sake,
I’ll leave it at that.


Today's LittleNip:

The rose is a dead hand on its way to becoming a star.

—Stephen Dobyns

Photo by D.R. Wagner