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.
That’s right–my debut scifi, The Lunar Gambit, is now available for pre-order as an ebook through Amazon! Order your copy today for just 99cents, a discounted pre-order price! Once the book is released on June 29, the price will go up.
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!!!
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
In song we make dreams.
In dreaming we make meaning.
In waking, singing.
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.
Again, in spite
Hyperbole, funding a
Currency of spite and diet
Cloaks; in spite of old oaks
The line of sight
To bed down
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
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
I haven’t seen your naked stars
Silhouetting rolling hills of
Jack Pine towers, haven’t dipped my
Toe into the ebbing pool, filled
And drained by water baptized in
The Mackinac Straits, for longer
Than I care to remember. Where
The stones still echo hollow songs
Of iron ore and copper, where waves
Gently kiss the grain away from
The face of agates, century
On century–no, I haven’t
Been home in too long. But I trust
The stars have not abandoned her
Quiet eyes, the pines still standing
Witness to the ambling of time.
I trust the ripples from a stone
I threw a decade ago still
Move among the muskellunge and
Trout, and I do not doubt the shore
Is home to stones of coiled fire, shot
Blood-red with rust and purified
Beneath the gently lapping waves
Of Lake Michigan.
I will sing my eyes to wonder again.
I will once more uncover leaf-strewn paths
Across the canyon of my appetites,
Across the endless ocean of vague and
Argument, and find the eyes of a child,
Wide with startling certainty and clear with
The utter absence of regret.
Hazy and forlorn,
High beams after ev’ry turn,
Defrosted eyes burn.