What dreams may come

the picture

Tumbling down the narrow
stone steps, the wet taxi streets,
I know nothing of your dreams,
your mood, your dark mystery nights.

Great things, little things,
rye and stout,

my hand on your waist
for the picture.

the sun

we danced around the room
we stood on the roof
we playacted
hamlet, macbeth, anything
to unsee the clouds heavy on the basilica
clouds now on the balcony,
tomorrow, your journey east
                       to die, to sleep, perchance
into the eye of the sun
                       to dream

the end

I remember the Rilke poem,
dark mystery as you turned your head,
the taxi ride, I stood on the roof and watched,
sweetest sadness of the lone wanderer,
the sound of a name, a wintry
season ahead

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More stores coming in

Schematics and Assemblies of the Cosmic Heart is coming in all over.

Shortlisted for the Faulkner-Wisdom Poetry Prize
NEW YORK, Quimby’s Brooklyn, 536 Metropolitan Ave (718) 384-1215.
AUSTIN, BookPeople, 603 N Lamar, (512) 472-5050.
BOULDER, Beat Book Shop, 1200 Pearl St #10, (303) 444-7111.
CHICAGO, Quimby’s Wicker Park, 1854 W North Ave, (773) 342-0910.
GUANAJUATO, Escalera Librería, Benito Juárez #59, +52 (473) 103-0564.
Soon to be in NEW ORLEANS and more.

For you poor souls who live without a bookstore cool enough, hit the Amazon link above (or get me a contact to your local store … and to local reviewers 🙂 )

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La vie en rose

Swans and apples, balcony breakfasts,
skin hunger, a touch, no, a word,
not even a word
a sound

far away
past the cathedral
somewhere in the wind
a sound with just a memory

of meaning, of joy, of sadness

la vie en rose

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Schematics in Mexico

Schematics and Assemblies of the Cosmic Heart now available at Librería Escalera in Guanajuato (Av. Benito Juarez).
Libería Escalera link HERE
Amazon link HERE

white stone, a cathedral of sorts, Medea
roiled a red and golden heat, the fleece gone,
and none left to bury the dead

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Schematics / Poetry Book Club

Schematics and Assemblies of the Cosmic Heart featured in The Poetry Book Club. Buy a copy and drop a quick rating on Amazon. Spread the news. Word sculptures to entertain and nourish the spirit. $9.88 pap, $3.91 Kindle. Cheap and easy support for those of us toiling in the vineyard of the arts. Go ahead. Do it. 
         Schematics and Assemblies Amazon link HERE
         Poetry Book Club link HERE

mountain lantern light
breaking through bamboo and ice
a thousand angels

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Make the room bright

From my new collection, Schematics and Assemblies of the Cosmic Heart.

After wine, after friends,
in your room pushing back
bedtime forever. You strummed
songs on your guitar, songs you had written

in England, Spain, Greece, Mexico.

I read you my poems.
You fell asleep, darkness.
I stayed awake as the last bits
of beauty smoldered and went out.

I stayed awake all night
and the darkness filled with all
the joys and sadness of my life, all here,
now, in your room, the smell of rose water
lingering on the ragged edge
of time, of our time.

I stayed awake until dawn began
and your body began
to move:

“Open the curtains,” you said.
“Make the room bright.”

Link to Amazon here

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Eat the Storms

I was lucky to have my poetry featured on Damien Donnelly’s Dublin poetry podcast, Eat the Storms. You can link to the episode (Spotify) here. (I’m at 33:05-41:40.) Or go straight to the podcast website and browse. You’ll find lots of good stuff from one of the great poetry cities of the world, hosted by the warm and friendly voice of Damien 🙂

Follow the podcast, say hi to Damien, and give him a shoutout for his efforts to give voice to poets of all stripes and stature.

Gary

Link to Amazon here

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Schematics and Assemblies of the Cosmic Heart

My new book of poems, Schematics and Assemblies of the Cosmic Heart (117 pages), is now available on Amazon (pap. $9.88, Kindle $3.91). Read it. Rate it. Review it. Pass it on.

Link to Amazon here

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Rise and Fall of the Bread Pudding Chef

The bread pudding chef

Three cups of sugar, four
eggs, I stir, and then
you approach: kitchen
becomes temple, stars
move, blood boils and beads
up, I try to concentrate.

Four cups of sugar, three
eggs, you do bring
in thrills a febrile
wild terror of sacrament
unknown or untendered
in safer religions. Stars
move, your glance meets
the window. Three
eggs, I stir, I take
it you are a witch,
my bright-happy blood
beads no amulet.

Picturing a small transgression

i remember
once
the moon
was sinking

and you pushed
it
up with
your hands

“witch” i said
and you kissed me

A fragment

Committing twice the intentional
fallacy, once the affective,
I offered an algebra of clover
and storms sweeping in
along the front range:
snow was in your hair;
you were puzzled.

The bread pudding chef’s lament

Three cups of sugar, four
eggs, I stir, and then
you retreat: kitchen
becomes empty, fruit
sours, cream curdles and dries
up. I try to concentrate.

Four cups of sugar, three
eggs, and the sun became
as sackcloth, the moon
became as blood, the stars
of heaven fell, mountain and island
were moved from their places. Fruit
sours, the center cannot hold.

Babylon the great is fallen, fallen,
and is become the habitation
of devils, and then was there
great weeping and wailing, saying:
alas, alas, that great city,
for in one hour she
is made desolate.

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