I Just Finished My New Book of Poetry!
Eskeletonada. 63 pages. I wanted to do it in a weekend but this will have to do. I started it on Saturday night with a poem called "First Push." I guess the idea of writing a novel in a month gave me the go ahead to write a book of poetry in a week, if not a weekend. Thing is. I really like it. I'm going to be divvying them up to send out, unlike other new stuff I've just been publishing on the blog. Just in case, any po po mo publishers out there wanna give the individual poems a looksie? Just thought I'd ask. It's like looking for a new place, it doesn't hurt to ask around. The book, though, is already spoken for, at least in my poetic fantasies -- of which I am multitude.
Back to typing, then turkey. Pieces and peace to you all.
Back to typing, then turkey. Pieces and peace to you all.
posted by Lorna Dee Cervantes at 9:42 AM
1 Comments:
Just checked out your blog. Great!
Glad to see there is a fellow poet
nuts about the area. Here is one I
wrote as Wilma was closing in on our
beloved Isla, and I was very down.
Jerry Everett
JerryinNYC
Sensitive Dependence
Do butterflies have conscience?
Are wing beats skipped in dread
Of consequence and time?
I hear the stone hand of wind.
Feel the liquid mountain.
Words can not describe
A freight train coming down the street.
The Glory wings are gone
Before the first ocean breeze.
No thought or sole save being itself
Guided there occasional rush.
And we who know
Call the name of one or two steps in the chase.
Then nothing more than the painted wing
But being itself.
Struggling up the wave
In memory of air.
A voice that shouts against the wind
Answered by the emptiness of choice.
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