I am about to pivot to a more reflective and prosaic mode on Dayword, still focused on poetry but withholding new poems of my own for awhile. The happy news is that I’m returning to Athens, where among experiences to come I will be working on a poetry collection. The process demands some withholding, to let the work become itself without arbitrary exhibitionism. If you’re in Athens in the next two months and happen to have a bottle of wine, you can hear some. Speaking of arbitrary exhibitionism, and while we’re navel gazing, I confess this is my greatest disappointment […]
Poetry
Calling
I do not call to gods and guides occasionally, like an estranged relative, checking in. I call to them continually, for I feel them continually in the wonder of waking through dream’s residue, in the sun-wheel’s floral pulse, in deliciously bitter clock bites, in gently descending equations, in gravity’s pull on my beard, in exquisite nymph-songs, in the tongues of dead wizards, in the childheart unbanished, my mouth full of galaxies and my throat throwing colors I call, I call.