Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
AUTHOR EVENT
I will be reading from my debut fiction collection, Carry Each His Burden, at the Patterson Library in Westfield, NY, Thursday, September 29th, 7pm. Click here for further information.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
AUTHOR EVENT
I will be reading from my debut fiction collection, Carry Each His Burden, at Talking Leaves Books in Buffalo, Wednesday, October 12th, 7pm, at the Main St. location. For further information go to Talking Leaves Books.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Light At Last
Hanging from these power lines,
Current stretched across a decade,
Voltage pulsing through black palms,
Tongue tasting charred, electric ozone,
Light at last behind eyes ten years gone.
Hanging from these power lines,
Current stretched across a decade,
Voltage pulsing through black palms,
Tongue tasting charred, electric ozone,
Light at last behind eyes ten years gone.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
The Year Beyond This Year
A little boy, ever so quietly with each new night,
Within the suspended animation of sleep, of dreams,
Changing with the leaves as summer gives up her ghost,
Another season stretching toward the year beyond this year,
And with it so too a little boy for the man he will become in time.
A little boy, ever so quietly with each new night,
Within the suspended animation of sleep, of dreams,
Changing with the leaves as summer gives up her ghost,
Another season stretching toward the year beyond this year,
And with it so too a little boy for the man he will become in time.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Her Black Sea
Your face is no longer your face under a dim, almost dead moon.
She cast her spell into the dying tides that swept you far away.
She, not Luna, not oceans, damned your soul to drift forever.
Your face is no longer your face mirrored in her black sea.
Your face is no longer your face under a dim, almost dead moon.
She cast her spell into the dying tides that swept you far away.
She, not Luna, not oceans, damned your soul to drift forever.
Your face is no longer your face mirrored in her black sea.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Train Dreams
No poem, only night's
constellation cinema,
thruway thrumming,
penciled branches,
shadow animals,
ghost weather,
sleeping birds,
train dreams,
yellow eyes,
wind voices,
black grass,
river songs,
smoke sky,
blue hours,
halo moon,
wired hum,
slow dawn.
No poem, only night's
constellation cinema,
thruway thrumming,
penciled branches,
shadow animals,
ghost weather,
sleeping birds,
train dreams,
yellow eyes,
wind voices,
black grass,
river songs,
smoke sky,
blue hours,
halo moon,
wired hum,
slow dawn.
Friday, September 9, 2011
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Ginger (To Perfume This Night)
Holding our collective breath,
Almost there,
Coming into focus,
A change in the weather,
Delicate romance,
Curtains blowing
Upon our arrival,
As we linger
In the long light
Of a new architecture,
Our sunlit silhouette
Exhales its ginger
To perfume this night,
Our unbroken union,
The coming blue of dawn.
Holding our collective breath,
Almost there,
Coming into focus,
A change in the weather,
Delicate romance,
Curtains blowing
Upon our arrival,
As we linger
In the long light
Of a new architecture,
Our sunlit silhouette
Exhales its ginger
To perfume this night,
Our unbroken union,
The coming blue of dawn.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Ghosts, Come Gather (Sing Your Grey Songs)
Wind at my back
Haunting a past
I no longer hear
Now with her (my love)
In my life.
Dead spirits,
You hold no more sway
As I hurtle on across
This expanding plain
Pointed toward a new beginning
And inevitably on to the end.
Sighs. Whispers. Screams.
What I cannot hear is that which
invites reverie, contemplation.
Ghosts,
Come gather around this fire
I have built purely from will
And sing your grey songs.
Though I can no longer hear them,
I am always listening
To the silence, to her (my love),
To the stories my own blood carries
To the end.
Wind at my back
Haunting a past
I no longer hear
Now with her (my love)
In my life.
Dead spirits,
You hold no more sway
As I hurtle on across
This expanding plain
Pointed toward a new beginning
And inevitably on to the end.
Sighs. Whispers. Screams.
What I cannot hear is that which
invites reverie, contemplation.
Ghosts,
Come gather around this fire
I have built purely from will
And sing your grey songs.
Though I can no longer hear them,
I am always listening
To the silence, to her (my love),
To the stories my own blood carries
To the end.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
The Broken Bell (for Chuck Anderson)
I can still hear the broken bell of Time we were keeping,
The sound of 10,000 days resounding in our ears
As the years crawled their opposite shores
In search of the rhythm of our youth,
A percussion of lost, loud hours
Still ringing a sound, a fury
In our cracked hearts.
I can still hear the broken bell of Time we were keeping,
The sound of 10,000 days resounding in our ears
As the years crawled their opposite shores
In search of the rhythm of our youth,
A percussion of lost, loud hours
Still ringing a sound, a fury
In our cracked hearts.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
A Dance Of Days (for Wesley Baker)
A halo of music hovers above a fair head
You have filled with words of the last century's literature,
As you speak in thoughtful, soft syllables
Of where you have been while the world spins onward
Below shifting sky, beneath shifting feet
As they change longitude in search of new latitudes
In a dance of days we continue to sing.
A halo of music hovers above a fair head
You have filled with words of the last century's literature,
As you speak in thoughtful, soft syllables
Of where you have been while the world spins onward
Below shifting sky, beneath shifting feet
As they change longitude in search of new latitudes
In a dance of days we continue to sing.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Unseen To Us (for Doug Baker)
Wherever I have found my feet planted firmly
He knows the trees towering tall overhead;
The beautiful locusts of Erie shores,
The strong oaks of crossroads,
The pine of wooded coves,
All a wonder I ponder
As we add a ring
Unseen to us
And Time
Itself.
Wherever I have found my feet planted firmly
He knows the trees towering tall overhead;
The beautiful locusts of Erie shores,
The strong oaks of crossroads,
The pine of wooded coves,
All a wonder I ponder
As we add a ring
Unseen to us
And Time
Itself.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Oceans Eternal (for Mike Mortimer)
Capsize the worn and battered boat
Throw the broken soul to the salt
Swallow the open sea of belief
Embrace the oceans eternal
Capsize the worn and battered boat
Throw the broken soul to the salt
Swallow the open sea of belief
Embrace the oceans eternal
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Equus Ferus Caballus
At odds with this terrain rolling out before me, behind me
As I whip the horse I ride beyond the setting sun
Into the black-kissed, blue-bruised night
In search of a pure healing peace
Where I can release at last
This beast of burdens,
Set free my mind
To run wild
this life.
At odds with this terrain rolling out before me, behind me
As I whip the horse I ride beyond the setting sun
Into the black-kissed, blue-bruised night
In search of a pure healing peace
Where I can release at last
This beast of burdens,
Set free my mind
To run wild
this life.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Of Dying Suns, Collapsing Stars
Pull back the night sky
And search its folds
For the unborn
Hidden within celestial blankets
That hold the heavenly warmth
Of dying suns, collapsing stars,
For the one
Whose name we speak
Only in prayers for now
Pull back the night sky
And search its folds
For the unborn
Hidden within celestial blankets
That hold the heavenly warmth
Of dying suns, collapsing stars,
For the one
Whose name we speak
Only in prayers for now
Thursday, September 8, 2011
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Hiss
Nerves vibrate,
Shake the slightest sound
From inside this skin;
A sigh from a soul,
A hum from a heart,
The murmur of an electric prayer
Along a theremin spine,
Slipping between cartilage
And on into
Oxygen-rich blood,
Its hiss barely heard
Beneath the wince of a paper-cut.
Nerves vibrate,
Shake the slightest sound
From inside this skin;
A sigh from a soul,
A hum from a heart,
The murmur of an electric prayer
Along a theremin spine,
Slipping between cartilage
And on into
Oxygen-rich blood,
Its hiss barely heard
Beneath the wince of a paper-cut.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Feather
She brings wind,
Breathes blue into its wings,
Cups my heart in her hands and hums
A bird, a breeze into all four of its waiting chambers
Where love must sometimes be reminded of its own flight of fancy.
She brings wind,
Breathes blue into its wings,
Cups my heart in her hands and hums
A bird, a breeze into all four of its waiting chambers
Where love must sometimes be reminded of its own flight of fancy.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Pure And Raw (Like This Smile Behind Gnashing Teeth)
I cannot keep my wolverine soul from wandering
All of the thorn-kissed, thicket-choked rushes,
Their dark, sharp shadow's cage unable
To hold at bay my own fierce heart,
It's howling scaring all of those
I hold most dear in a world
Where I stalk the wild
Of wilderness years
I remember well
Despite the distance
From their bloody lust
Of red-mad animal instinct
Still lurking below jagged scars'
Sun-healed wounds from predators
Conjured to life again from imagination,
Pure and raw, a prey to maul, like this smile
Behind gnashing teeth I savage before it's seen
I cannot keep my wolverine soul from wandering
All of the thorn-kissed, thicket-choked rushes,
Their dark, sharp shadow's cage unable
To hold at bay my own fierce heart,
It's howling scaring all of those
I hold most dear in a world
Where I stalk the wild
Of wilderness years
I remember well
Despite the distance
From their bloody lust
Of red-mad animal instinct
Still lurking below jagged scars'
Sun-healed wounds from predators
Conjured to life again from imagination,
Pure and raw, a prey to maul, like this smile
Behind gnashing teeth I savage before it's seen
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
We Are The Weight Of Our Own Water Bodies
Carry each his burden
For we are the weight of our own water bodies
Flooding soul intentions, our hands waving
To shores behind us, shores beyond us
As we swallow an unrelenting rain
Determined to drown our fight songs
Beneath the swollen river of Time.
Carry each his burden
For we are the weight of our own water bodies
Flooding soul intentions, our hands waving
To shores behind us, shores beyond us
As we swallow an unrelenting rain
Determined to drown our fight songs
Beneath the swollen river of Time.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Carry These Words / These Words Carry (With You)
Carry these words (with you).
Hold the smoke of them in your lungs.
Sling them over the breadth of broad shoulders.
Secret their meaning inside the shelter of a strong heart.
Hide their bright glow beneath the shadow of your own mute soul.
(With you) these words carry.
Carry these words (with you).
Hold the smoke of them in your lungs.
Sling them over the breadth of broad shoulders.
Secret their meaning inside the shelter of a strong heart.
Hide their bright glow beneath the shadow of your own mute soul.
(With you) these words carry.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
A Document Of Days To Come
Looking back over broad shoulders
I scan a calendar of landscapes
For my wind-erased footprints,
Stand momentarily there
In a stun of years,
But also in
The building light
Of a new morning's dawn,
Ready at long last to walk on
With my wife and our small son,
A document of days to come beyond.
Looking back over broad shoulders
I scan a calendar of landscapes
For my wind-erased footprints,
Stand momentarily there
In a stun of years,
But also in
The building light
Of a new morning's dawn,
Ready at long last to walk on
With my wife and our small son,
A document of days to come beyond.
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
The Songs We Have Sung Alone (for Doug Baker)
I cannot collapse the years
We have spent throats stretched
Toward the night sky, a lone melody
Escaping with the blue exhalation of smoke,
Consulting stars in search of our sweet harmony.
I cannot collapse the years
We have spent throats stretched
Toward the night sky, a lone melody
Escaping with the blue exhalation of smoke,
Consulting stars in search of our sweet harmony.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Document Of Days To Come / new poems 2011
Wilted Roses
As summer surrenders her hot breath
I nod off in a cold room, await the fall.
Condensation hands and conversations fading
From memory buried beneath sand effigies.
Quiet slips from the pages of a bleached book
Landing upon a quilted bed of wilted roses.
As summer surrenders her hot breath
I nod off in a cold room, await the fall.
Condensation hands and conversations fading
From memory buried beneath sand effigies.
Quiet slips from the pages of a bleached book
Landing upon a quilted bed of wilted roses.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
