These are prose poems, and in them I wander to different places, tending to focus on light and motion and sounds as they represent various dimensions that deepen not only what is being viewed, but in the viewer. Some of these poems occur in Asia Minor, in places such as Termessos, and Aphrodisias, which is why I chose this cover image of a stairway to a theatre in the ancient city of Kibyra .
You can find the book here: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1373856
For Dave Nader
In Loving Memory of Julie Anne Benson Flynn
If we could only
find the courage to leave our destiny to chance,
to accept the
fundamental mystery of our lives….
Luis Buñuel
Table Of Contents
I
Inshallah
Ululating Steeples
Jawbone
Oblivionraker
Never Now Been Where
Chap Mate Pal Bud Chum Bestie
Wheel Slime
Round Sound
Uptight Commuter
Symptoms
Aubade
Shed Light’s On Again
Eastern Zephyr
A Tribe Of Goats
Purple Termessos
Aphrodisias Yellow-Throated Like A Vireo
Depersonalized At The Ordinary
Stubby Crayon
Vulpine Avenues
If This What Then So Why That
Viscid Lucid
There Will Be Renewal
Class-Sick
Three Piedmont Afternoons
II
Behind The Breakers
Guilt Or Sew
She Charts Her Stance
Contradistinction
Drama’s Two Faces
Sewing Needles Not Dragonflies
Body Guarded
A Dandy In Cerulean
Guest Of The Harp
Wharf Rat Roger That
Heresies Of An Infatuation
Reference Maker Mate
Inked In Mighty Frescoes
Scurrilous Char
When Near
A Salty Owl Muses
Rain Rides Down To Rot The Seams
Addressing The Stakes Of Importunate Options
Wonderland Happens Today
Carle In Wormtown
Versions Of Ionia
Luck Disbelief
Burnt End Of A June Evening After Hearing Brodsky Read At
Assumption College
Super Mega Ultra 80s Blitz From K-Tel
Realized And Li Po
III
Mudlark With Black-Eyed Susans
Gridlock
Hills Of Albion Aglow
What The Husband Usually Never Says
Sunday Quiet
Chet Over Easy
Confessing Washed-Up Wannabe
Hydrodynamic
Overcast Tea
Revered Moorings Memorial Day
Your Teacher Your Illusion
It Seems Each Visitor Soon Misses San Francisco
Yoga Morning Year’s First Snow
Connubial
Wisp And Axis
Growth Amps
Roaches At An Easel Risk The Ferns Of A Beach Dream
Lost Low Northerly
Time Signatures
Whim Oven Sickle
Fractions In E Minor
Status Andronicus
There Are Days
Song From A Little Chatte
In Lockdown
Here is a sample poem from the book
There Will Be Renewal
When
willows flag and grasses cringe, when frogs and crickets creep with sparrows, and
when girls with slow faces learn how to sing, these are the times when we know
an innocent has died. We mourn. Pulled toward the earth we find and make our
trail back to the mystery where our glorious nothingness began. Does anyone
really want to live forever? Gravity is. It never comes on or happens.
Sometimes, I wish to collect and refund such gravity. Other times, the air
smells like my heart, like methods, an art, daffodils that rehearse in chorus.
I don’t
have to become one of the mourners. I already am – unimaginative and too eager
for success. I scorn myself as one too jealous. I prefer to be a duck because
I’d be allowed to swim all day and wouldn’t need to say much. I could boast a
dry back too, and nobly disinterested intentions.
No comments:
Post a Comment