W E L C O M E
Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate your visit, and encourage you to explore. I'm a retired educator, a former commercial fisherman, and an ex-Alaskan who now lives in Olympia, Washington. These days I spend most of my time writing, photographing or editing photos (you can see samples of my work on my photography website, Patrick Dixon, Fine Art Photography).
I write essays, creative nonfiction and poetry. I love writing of any kind, and have had pieces published by FISH Publishing in Ireland, the Cirque Literary Journal in Alaska, Raven Chronicles in Washington state and Oberon Poetry magazine in New York, as well as by several journals and magazines. I was the editor of the seven-volume set of Anchored in Deep Water: The FisherPoets Anthology, published in 2014. In the summer of 2015 I won the Alabama State Poetry Society Morris Memorial chapbook competition with my book 'Arc of Visiblity'. My memoir 'WAITING to DELIVER' about commercial fishing was published in 2022. My full-length collection of fishing poetry was published in June of 2025 by MoonPath Press. You can order either book from any independent bookstore, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or contact me here for a signed copy. I'm selling the book for $25.00, which includes shipping. I'll also be giving a series of readings in the coming months. For my schedule, go HERE.
My most recently published poem was in "Let It Burn, Let It Float", an anthology published by the Olympia Poetry Network in celebration of their 30th year:
Unexpectedly Fine
I have 20 minutes to write this poem.
By then the parking meter will have run dry.
I’ve let that happen before, sitting
in this same lakeside café sipping a mocha,
scribbling in my journal until time
and the material world
evaporated,
only to find a yellow envelope
on the windshield like a flag
announcing a different disappearing act
of $55 from my bank account.
But Dan is playing jazz so unexpectedly fine
on his guitar, and the tables are full of young
tattooed twenty-somethings talking softly under
the harmonics wafting over us from the mini-Martin
he is making love to onstage
that I have no desire to pick up and rescue
my windshield from another assault, even if it is
a perfect spring day outside. It’s flawless in here.
Time is money, someone said, but here and now
time is music, and my tapping foot the clock. I say
let money depart, let music spread its wings;
let time fill my ears, my chest, this page with song.
I write essays, creative nonfiction and poetry. I love writing of any kind, and have had pieces published by FISH Publishing in Ireland, the Cirque Literary Journal in Alaska, Raven Chronicles in Washington state and Oberon Poetry magazine in New York, as well as by several journals and magazines. I was the editor of the seven-volume set of Anchored in Deep Water: The FisherPoets Anthology, published in 2014. In the summer of 2015 I won the Alabama State Poetry Society Morris Memorial chapbook competition with my book 'Arc of Visiblity'. My memoir 'WAITING to DELIVER' about commercial fishing was published in 2022. My full-length collection of fishing poetry was published in June of 2025 by MoonPath Press. You can order either book from any independent bookstore, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or contact me here for a signed copy. I'm selling the book for $25.00, which includes shipping. I'll also be giving a series of readings in the coming months. For my schedule, go HERE.
My most recently published poem was in "Let It Burn, Let It Float", an anthology published by the Olympia Poetry Network in celebration of their 30th year:
Unexpectedly Fine
I have 20 minutes to write this poem.
By then the parking meter will have run dry.
I’ve let that happen before, sitting
in this same lakeside café sipping a mocha,
scribbling in my journal until time
and the material world
evaporated,
only to find a yellow envelope
on the windshield like a flag
announcing a different disappearing act
of $55 from my bank account.
But Dan is playing jazz so unexpectedly fine
on his guitar, and the tables are full of young
tattooed twenty-somethings talking softly under
the harmonics wafting over us from the mini-Martin
he is making love to onstage
that I have no desire to pick up and rescue
my windshield from another assault, even if it is
a perfect spring day outside. It’s flawless in here.
Time is money, someone said, but here and now
time is music, and my tapping foot the clock. I say
let money depart, let music spread its wings;
let time fill my ears, my chest, this page with song.
Order Mending Holes
