Busy National Poetry Month 2019!

Apologies for the late update. April 2019 turned out to be a busy National Poetry Month after I accepted invitation into a 30/30 challenge – 30 new poems in 30 days. I manage to pull it off. Mentally exhausted now, but left with some really interesting and cool drafts from which to make future poems.

The month also saw new poems published in petrichor, Horny Poetry Review and Risk Magazine. More on the way in the coming months, but still waiting to see if any publisher picks up Twang. (It’s in the hands of several at the moment!)

Kicking off National Poetry Month 2019

with the first of several short poems featured in Issue VII of Risk Magazine. The issue is themed the Art of Intimacy. The editors asked me to craft some poems inspired by the layout in this issue, dealing with modern intimacy, sex, relationships, etc. I ended up creating four pieces – it was a tight deadline that provided me 3.5 days to complete the work – and the first debuted over the weekend in their story Astronauts.

The poem used in the editorial spread is titled “Daynight.” You can read the original text below.

Daynight

Cobalt, he said.
Around us molecules
forgot to hush.

I remember the first time
we met here, I lied.
His copper eyes afire.

Do you ever worry?
I heard our past race
ahead, geese and gulls

abandoning land.
It’s there, but we can’t see.
It blinds the moon. It has

not been night for a week.
Why do we oxidize
our best parts?

I will miss you.

 

Poem of Which I Am Most Proud

I wrote the first draft of Reading Is Fundamental ten years ago. The poem traveled a long journey of forms, images, sounds that worked and more that failed.

It contains a story and a feeling I wanted to share about a time and place that will never be again. It pays homage to a generation of gay men destroyed by AIDS. To a time and place of liberation that we have in some ways surpassed and in other ways will never know again.

I will never be able to read this poem in public. It yanks deep sadness and regrets out of me that I otherwise ignore. I usually start crying by Lesson 3.

I hope you enjoy the poem – not just as nostalgia or history, but as love expressed through words.