The rains and the temple

Shiva’s giant trident
at Pasupatinath still wet,
a monkey, with child clinging
fast and dry to the belly,
eyes the pilgrim’s steps,
starts, reconsiders, decides
quickly for which tree
she is to run.

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Shortlisted for the Faulkner-Wisdom Poetry Prize

 

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BookLife and the HAL 9000

On Sept. 8, 2022, BookLife reviewed Alice, the post-apocalyptic adult hippie fairy tale you’ve all been reading (or are eager to download and read today). Here’s a clip from the review:

“A whimsical, fairytale-like quality … magnetic … a storybook world [with] a flavor not often seen.”

And Northwestern University’s Jeffrey Burgdorf ran it through his nefarious artificial intelligence (AI) machine and asked it to create a cover image. Below is the actual cover (left) and the AI cover image (right). Take your pick.


Burgdorf’s AI, by the way, gave Alice “the first ever 5-star Amazon review done entirely by artificial intelligence,” though I have no idea what mysterious feelings beating in that mechanical heart motivated the encomium.

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Hero and Leander (voice)

I tried to do a voice recording of my latest poem. It was tricky getting it up on WordPress, as it seems I had to make it a video, upload it to YouTube, then post the YouTube link. Let’s see how it came out. Text below.

Hero and Leander (the lamp and the water)

I still walk to that lake, the surface now still,
absence of geometry, ache of tranquility,

a voice but a whisper
soothing, sad, a silver
thorn in the side of love.

What love creates, need destroys.

We put flowers on the table
at the changing of the season.

Then the rains came. We watched
through the kitchen window.
You turned out the lamp.

“I love you more than I need you,” I said.
“Now I know what that means.”
But need, the ache, the silver thorn,
will have its bloody day.

Time passes. Seasons change.

When I walk to the lake I stir the surface,
the glitter of sun, a dangerous swell,
my hand beginning to move
into place a geometry
of memories.

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Good books spreading south

Still in stores in New York, Chicago, and online.
Now in Austin, New Orleans, and central Mexico.

AUSTIN

NEW ORLEANS                      

 

 

 

 

 

 

GUANAJUATO, MEXICO

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Gary’s Shelf in NYC

Finally got my own shelf at Quimby’s Brooklyn, NYC!

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Hero and Leander (the lamp and the water)

I still walk to that lake, the surface now still,
absence of geometry, ache of tranquility,

a voice but a whisper
soothing, sad, a silver
thorn in the side of love.

What love creates, need destroys.

We put flowers on the table
at the changing of the season.

Then the rains came. We watched
through the kitchen window.
You turned out the lamp.

“I love you more than I need you,” I said.
“Now I know what that means.”
But need, the ache, the silver thorn,
will have its bloody day.

Time passes. Seasons change.

When I walk to the lake I stir the surface,
the glitter of sun, a dangerous swell,
my hand beginning to move
into place a geometry
of memories.

Poem by Gary Gautier
Painting by Cheryl Gautier

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In all the best cities

Now in all the best cities: New Orleans, New York, Chicago

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Faster to the close we went

the earth stopped turning
and we all went flying
off toward the stars

sparkling, burning, dying,
our stupid awe holding
only to the beauty

hazy memories, moss
and moon, drifting
floating petals

someone on the tiny plaza
just outside my window

flying still toward the stars
faster, faster, stupid awe
holding tight to savage
light and bitter ash

eyes aflame, dreams
and memories void of pain

sparkling, burning, dying, laughing
stupidly good, colder now, yet
faster, faster, to the close
faster to the close
we went

  

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Psychedelic fiction

               Get your psychedelic reading fix on with Hippies and Alice.

                 

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Never too young to be too old

“You’re never too young to be too old to give a shit” (Gary Gautier)

Yes, that’s right, Gary Gautier, aka Daedalus Lex, your host. I was talking to a younger friend the other day in some emotional pain, and when I tossed him that morsel, he thought it full of wit and wisdom, a maxim worthy of my list of devil’s aphorisms. I have my doubts, but there it is. There is, of course, context for how the maxim emerged from earlier emotional and dialogical tussles, but I will leave that out for now and see if it floats.

Bonjour, bonsoir, bon appetit!

Gary

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