TBS Podcast Update: Shows, Kang, Poole, Douglas

Avast, ye lubbers! Gather ’round and hearken whilst I tell ye the tale, the tale of a podcast which doth hath therefore and suchforth, likewise… ernstwhile…

Yeah. Great news! The Book Speaks Podcast has been rolling right along! Since my last update, there have been four fabulous episodes, rounding things out at 10. Check these out, for reals though:

Episode 7: Izzy Shows

Episode 8: Alexa Kang

Episode 9: Jeffrey Poole

Episode 10: Benjamin Douglas (hey, that’s me!)

Yeah, it’s true. I read from my own stuff. But hey, it was the 10th episode! A celebration!

Check out http://thebookspeakspodcast.wordpress.com for more episodes, where you can also subscribe via iTunes or other podcatchers. Next week: the man Chris Fox himself! Check it out!

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Four Haiku

Housecat Haiku

A lion lives here.
Keep your feet up at all times,
Or they are forfeit..

 

Strangeness Haiku

A little strangeness
Spread about the normalcy
Aids in my breathing.

 

Enjambment Haiku

I am a poem.
This one time, I enjambed my
Toe. That’s how I know.

 

Grownup Haiku

Fifteen years later,
I hold my son, smile, and eat
Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

What Hath Iron Wrought?

What hath iron wrought? Before the sweat
There were moments of stillness, quiet
Places taught colors to sing for those
Who would let themselves listen. Before

Our feet the birch bark paved eternal
Roads to moments where self meets self and
All meet quiet. What iron, who paved
Colors still, who taught sweat before feet,

Who sings roads before quiet, who would
Listen to self themselves, place moments
Of birch bark wrought for colors before
Those who sing eternal, before all.

Find Me

Find me, neverending friend.
Find me with eyes that burn through
Happy-ever-afters and walls of stone.
Find me with sacred scars that keep me
Callous to the song of renewed hope.
Find me long after I have disappeared,
After the rope of my mind has frayed
And split, after the blue has swallowed
All my fear and all my bones.
Oh, that you would find me!

The frayed song has renewed my walls.
Rope burns my callous eyes blue long
After the sacred ending. Nevermind my
Happy split scars, frayed ever-hope.
Nevermind stone renewed and long
Fear. Find all that has disappeared.
Find song long after bones. Find
Ever-renewed hope, a friend.
Find me.

The Lunar Gambit & The Trials of Io

COMING 6 29

Exciting news! I’ve been plugging away at my debut indie novel, The Lunar Gambit (Book I of The Starship Fairfax), and I’m happy to announce my intended release date: 6/29/2017. I’ll be releasing The Lunar Gambit exclusively on Amazon, at least for the first 90 days, so it will also be available to read on Kindle Unlimited. And I’ll be releasing the prequel novelette, The Trials of Io, exclusively as a mailing-list magnet before then. Details on that to come!

Check back for updates. And get excited! Whoo hoooooo!!!

Everlasting Poem

I don’t want to write another
Poem about stars and blood and
Moonlight if it doesn’t point to
Meaning. I’m not sure if sticks and
Stones would really break my bones, but
Words will always sing, will always
Ring with truth, and color, and the
Everlasting Other; tomes of
Alphabets to tell you all the
Moons and bloodied stars and stones and
Light compiled within a single
Bone will sing the everlasting
Poem.

Wenn ich der Kaiser wär

Wenn ich der Kaiser wär, Amerikaner
Würden Amerikanisch kaufen, ja, und
Amerikanisch verkaufen. Meine Mauer
Wäre die beste, die ungeheuerlichste.

Ich würde die Künste rauben und der
Grenze geben. Ich würde packen viele
Pussies, und alle meine Klagen ruhig
Zu begleichen, mit den besten Leuten,

Und ich würde unserer Türen zum Alien
Schließen, die Kinder des Vaters Abrahams
Vielen Söhnen. Reue hat gar keinen Zweck.
Reue ist etwas für kleine Kinder.

Kitchen

I’ve
Begun
To wonder
Again, in spite
Of propaganda,
Stunning political
Hyperbole, funding a
Currency of spite and diet
Cloaks; in spite of old oaks
Retreating beyond
The line of sight
To bed down
For the
Night
Beside
A wall of
Really great, the
Best, so tremendous;
In spite of endless skies
Cascading before my eyes
In light that bends but never dies;
In spite of all that rends the
Belly of the fates, the
Pen that concentrates
Alternative
Facts into
Ratings.
In
Winter
I bring out
Songs to help us
Remember. I sing
Out loud to hush embers
Of rust and other things that
No one needs. I trust sinners to
Crush the hand that feeds and
Deflates. I retire
To my kitchen,
Where I find
Fire, and
Bake.