It is time...

My new chapbook NO THIRD THING is available for pre-order.  I need a certain amount of orders to qualify for a press run.  Please help by ordering now.  Because my publisher is a small press, they depend on authors to promote sales.  Thank you for your generous support, dear friends.  

Click on this LINK to place your order.  Books ship October 9, 2015.

If Whitman's poems "celebrate" and Dickinson's "interrogate," the verb I associate with Tess Kincaid's beautiful lines is "billow― the poems start small, and before you know it, they're crackling like storms. Let lightning spit fire, let rain spray! said Shakespeare, and that's exactly what happens here.

David Kirby

Tess Kincaid's poetry has a touch of not only intimacy but of immediacy.  Her eye, her insight, miss little if anything. She has perfected a succinct style that reveals an experience as it happens, as it gathers meaning. These twenty-six poems evoke a web of discoveries, the way a life is lived, the metaphors of a poet's many lives poured into the reader's own. Ms. Kincaid's work offers a glimpse into the digital age, as well as into our enduring, more common condition.

Floyce Alexander

In No Third Thing Tess Kincaid goes "to the edge,/to the door between either and or" and her poems pull us right along with her.  It's a journey worth taking.  This is Kincaid's third publication and her best one yet.

Eva Tihanyi

Harvest

They spy at windows,

pound open the door. 

Poems are mistaken for sorcery,

intuition as heathen.

There is trial, ordeal by water; 

evidently, I float.

I bob the surface,

fetal against frothy black.

Wicker is made to order,

waist-high nest with a stake. 

They march around me,

army of preoccupied sheep.

Have you any wool?

I decline the blindfold.

Then comes smoke,
my eyes like a startled horse. 

tk/October 2014

A masterful read by R.A.D. Stainforth...

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Stonehenge

Poet's Sleep, 1989, Chang Houg Ahn 

The taste is new;

a mellow concoction

of innocence and corruption,

without a sell-by date.

I keep coming back,

like the tongue finds a change

in the mouth; a chipped tooth,

compelling imperfection.

I contradict myself;

conjure burnt offerings

to distract from the foreign,

strum a long melody on a bone comb.

It is still there.

Stubborn and marvelous, circular;

reminding me, like drunken chessmen,

to remain true to my lips.



tk/February 2014

R.A.D. Stainforth back this week in his black and white world...a scrumptious read...

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Latent Image

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas 

It develops in the bath;

smears mirror steam,

births metallic

in crumpled waves

of toothpaste tube.

I watch it thrash;

to cling to others,

push them under

and climb on top

in order to be rescued.

It does not drown;

settles under gelatin lids,

struggles to evaporate

before the fixer

dodges and burns.

tk/November 2013 

Excellent, thoughtful read by R.A.D. Stainforth...in his black and white world...

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Jenne' Andrews' new poetry collection...

A break from my regularly scheduled program to let you know about my dear poet friend, Jenne’ Andrews', stunning new collection, Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, her first in thirty years. I met Jenne’ several years ago when one of her amazing poems showed up in my creative writing group, Magpie Tales, and was completely taken by her masterful use of language. 

Jenne’ wields her pen with confidence. Her poems are a fresh concoction of earthy sensuality, carefully gathered from personal experience. They are gauzy as bird wings, yet pack a raw spiritual punch. The luminosity of this new collection is strongly compelling. You'll want to quietly wrap these poems, and repeatedly savor them ... smoke them!

Finishing Line Press is a small publishing house and depends on authors to help promote their books. Jenne’s pressrun is determined by her advance sales orders. Please consider placing an order now for this lovely chapbook by clicking on the following link:

FINISHING LINE PRESS 

Jenne’ R. Andrews’ early work appeared in The Colorado Review, The Ontario Review, The Seneca Review, The American Poetry Review, The Bloomsbury Review, Ms., and many other journals and anthologies. Recent poems appear in The Passionate Transitory, Belletrist Coterie, The Adirondack Review and Poets for Living Waters.

Robert Bly brought out her first collection, In Pursuit of the Family, Minnesota Writers’ Publishing House, in 1974. Her first book-length collection, Reunion, won the admiration of Christopher Howell, Lynx House Press, who published it in 1983. A second chapbook, The Dark Animal of Liberty, was published by poet-editors John Bradley and James Grabill in 1988.

One Colorado August day in 2007, she lost her mobility in a fall from the beautiful Arabian mare WR Apris. After several years of rehabilitation, she has returned to a full-time writing life on the acreage she shares with her partner of twenty-three years, fiction writer Jack Brooks.

Colorado State University conferred the Master of Fine Arts Degree (MFA) in Creative Writing-Poetry upon Ms. Andrews in Autumn 2013.

Integrate

Curlicue under my breath―

chime in while I crunch toast,

facing head-on, paperless,

over the constant rhythm of dishes.

Watch me squat alone, closeted,

protagonist in some unmade movie.

Spin me around, undo my ponytail,

take a Polaroid, then peel back―

wait until I appear nude and pure,

molecules settle in perfect spheres.

Say anything, give lip service

with the compression of a zip.

Deliver in breakneck speed―

we should wear a helmet!

tk/May 2013

Thanks to the most excellent R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this poem. 

Ponytail by Last Exit 

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I've been interviewed...

I'm very happy to have three of my poems published, along with many excellent poets, in the current issue of the online literary magazine, The Passionate Transitory. Not only am I honored to be listed as a contributor, but also to be interviewed.

Click here to read the interview.

Thanks Passionate Transitory!

lifestyle

Someone mentioned this week about my blog being a "lifestyle" blog. Five years ago this month, I started blogging fast and furiously.  I blogged about books, food, movies, and just about anything that popped into my little head. I never missed a day.

Then something happened. I started writing poetry. Gradually, the time I spent writing blog posts, shifted to time spent writing poetry. Then something else happened.  Facebook.  I took to Facebook like a duck to water, or shall I say, swan to water.  It's quick and easy to post a random thought, or current Willow Manor event, like the discovery of a dead moth, or spot of the floor that looks amazingly like Boris Pasternak. A conversation thread can be started at the drop of a hat, or feather, twenty-four-seven. Squawk! Do swans squawk? I think so, yes. 

To make a long story short, my way of life has become one of poetry. So, I still consider Life at Willow Manor a lifestyle blog. Even though I rarely visit blogs these days, except for Magpie Tales, I want to thank my faithful readers. Those of you not on Facebook, I promise to make an effort to post occasional recipes, movie reviews, and so on, so stay tuned. You are the best, dear peeps. You really, really are. 

photo: me a la Anne Boleyn, recluse at Willow Manor

The Library

R.A.D. Stainforth reads in his library voice...


I hover among shelves,

blissfully aware

of your brave new architecture,

your circular mind.

I look past the scaffold,

the crown of thorns

thrust high and piccadilly

from your unbridled wedding cake,

taste milk and water

you have turned to wine.

Miles of subtle volumes

pressed deep and still―

touchstones lodged

like pillars of salt,

more beholden in salvation,

than indulgence. 

tk/February 2013

Central Library, Manchester, U.K., photograph by Robin Gosnall 

January

Excellent read by R.A.D. Stainforth...

You sashay in,

buoyant in a woolly thing,

say it's better

than long underwear,

you think of it

as some kind of holy,

since your other sweaters

were put to sleep.

Turn around, then ― 

give me a side view,

come roost your silhouette

in the influence of my lap,

haberdasher of presses,

of all things deep.

tk/January 2013

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I've gone global...

with a little website...

Tess Kincaid

Whataya think? 

One-cigarette poems

R.A.D. Stainforth's sexy read...inspired by the one cigarette he smokes while reading...

One-cigarette poems

hang sexy and impatient,

hand-rolled thought-bubbles

combust smooth and easy.

Pluck them fast ―

inhale, before they sprout nervous wings

and take flight.

Pen them down, taste,

capture the essence as it smolders,

circles the ashtray,

spellbound in the mouth,

taking a chance,

bulletproof, addictive.

tk/December 2012

image by R.A.D. Stainforth

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First review...

Check out this stellar review of my new poetry chapbook UNPRESSED by Randall Radic at Blogcritics Books... (click link for the full article)

San Francisco presents itself as the Left Coast Poetry Hub, the focal point of all things doggerel. And for a fact, the place does have a lot of free verse action. So I figured I’d ask some of the local poets what they were reading, as opposed to what they weren’t reading. Most people who know anything about poetry know that August Kleinzahler hangs out in San Francisco. And since he’s probably the most famous living poet in the Bay Area, his stuff sells well–that’s a given.

What I wanted to know was this: who’s turning out remarkable poetry? And I don’t care if they’re from the Left Coast or not. Who–regardless of where they’re from–is worthy of note?

Get this: one name kept popping up–Tess Kincaid. I’m not even sure what part of the country she lives in–the Midwest? Maybe. According to the cognoscenti, she has a lovely ‘voice,’ a true poetical sense, and almost never steps over the line separating poetry from specious crap.

...remarkable stuff: witty, syncopated with a rhythm that rocks and rolls like music when read out loud. But what really sets Tess apart from the rest of the poetical aspirants is her use of the English language...

― Randall Radic at Blogcritics Books (entire article here)

UNPRESSED is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.

Hi...

A break from our regular programming ... with a blurb about my new chapbook ...

Finishing Line Press is a small publishing house, and depends on its authors to promote their own books. My pressrun is determined by the number of my pre-order sales. So, to make a long story short, please consider helping me out, by placing your pre-order now.

Books will ship March 1.

Thanks, dear peeps. This wouldn't be possible without your kind encouragement and support.

CLICK HERE TO PLACE YOUR PRE-ORDER

It's ready!

I'm very excited to announce my second 26-page poetry chapbook is now available to purchase from Finishing Line Press. The most thrilling news about this second collection, is that a studio-recorded audio version will be made by the most talented R.A.D. Stainforth.  The CDs will be available to purchase at the time the books ship, March 1.

Finishing Line is a small press, and depends on authors to help promote their books. I have an advance sales period of approximately six weeks, before the pressrun is determined. If you are interested in purchasing a copy, please help me by doing so, as soon as possible, by clicking this link:

FINISHING LINE PRESS PRE-ORDER

Thank you, dear readers, for your most generous support of my work. Without your encouragement, none of this would be possible. You are the best.

RAD takes your words and makes them liquid.  ―ReBelle

Came back to listen to RAD's reading. This partnership is quite breathtaking!  ―Ninotaziz

I love hearing your work. Ronaldo Stainforth makes your magic ours.  ―Wendy Ellis

Like dragonflies that seem to materialize out of thin air to hover before us, each poem in Tess Kincaid’s brilliant second collection Unpressed is a slow-motion reveal of exquisitely realized imagery and electrically charged linguistic compression. Turning on the intimate moments of daily life, pulling us into a kinetic, often whimsical world, this is a book to savor and return to, best kept close at hand. 

―Jenne’ R. Andrews

Tess Kincaid's poems are delicious little morsels full of elemental observations and uncluttered declarations of love. Unpressed is a collection to savor and re-read to discover all its understated pleasures. 

―Collin Kelley

A consummate & compelling collection, Unpressed is both internally intensive and existentially, extensively profound.  In communion with a mistress of the poetic medium, I felt at the mercy of a potent imagination that never failed to deliver an incredibly intuitive and inspired expression.

―Seán McGrady

Looky! I'm in Iodine...

I'm thrilled to have three of my unpublished poems featured in the fall/winter edition of Iodine Poetry Journal. 

Iodine Poetry Journal is a semi-annual magazine that appears in the spring and fall. Now in its thirteenth year of publication, they publish both established and emerging poets, including international poets from countries such as Brazil, Ecuador, Germany, Guatemala, Hong Kong, Israel, Italy, Japan, Latvia, Thailand, Qatar, U.K., among others. 

Iodine has published such noted poets as Joseph Bathanti, Kim Bridgford, Rick Campbell, Fred Chappell, David Chorlton, Peter Cooley, Kim Garcia, Colette Inez, Ron Koertge, Dorianne Laux, Karen An-Hwei Lee, Paul B. Roth, Anthony Seidman, R.T. Smith, and Virgil Suarez.

Work in Iodine Poetry Journal has appeared in Best of American Poetry 2006.
Individual copies are $8. One-year subscriptions are $14, and two-year subscriptions are $26. Purchases can be made online at www.iodinepoetryjournal.com. Orders can also be placed through U.S. mail. Checks may be made payable to Iodine Poetry Journal.

Big News

unpressed/ʌnˈprɛst/ 
▶adjective

• 1. not squeezed or obtained by pressure

• 2. unironed
• 
  

There's some fun news at Willow Manor! Finishing Line Press has agreed to publish my second 26-page chapbook!  This collection of love poems is titled Unpressed, and will be available to purchase later this year. I'll be sure to keep you posted on the details.

The funny thing is, not too long ago, I didn't even know what a chapbook was.  I timidly posted my very first poem here at Willow Manor in July 2008, and not only were no rotten vegetables tossed my direction, you actually encouraged me to write more. Thank you, dear, dear readers for your most kind, faithful encouragement and support. This wouldn't be possible without you, my friends. You are the best. I know, I always say it, but you really are.

In Vitro

R.A.D. Stainforth's lovely delivery...

I sit cross-legged and watch,

as your sea fades and shrinks;

shell-like bubbles break,

in the lingering suds.

I listen, bath-wrinkled,

shiver, as your voice runs liquid,

your soft night-time eyes blink,

as you take a drag,

curls drip behind your ears;

your lips within kissing distance.

tk/ April 2012

image by Manu Pombrol

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Scent

R.A.D. Stainforth contemplates scent ...

Summer nights,

I wake to your scent,

stubborn as marigolds,

near the bureau

that kept your lipstick

and perfume.

I try to dream again,

but stumble

bleary-eyed,

to the toilet.

My face finds yours,

cold in the mirror,

your breasts

heavy in quicksilver;

you smile, dab a bit

behind each of my ears.


tk/April 2012

image: Alex Stoddared

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redder

Once, I asked you, “Is scarlet the same as red?”

Hands across your chest, you said, 
“Scarlet is more red than red.”

I thought, “Is it possible
to be redder than red?”

Then, I remembered
O’Hara’s bow-hot lips,
The vivid A
On Hester’s breast;

Johansson’s erotic hips.

tk/April 2012

R.A.D. Stainforth's lovely reading: 

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image: Red Roofs, Marc Chagall, 1954