Poetry

[an error occurred while processing this directive]

Books by dPress

Wax Museum Poems by Belle Randall Cover by Luis Garcia		TRADE SECRETS Walking through walls appearing to cut A person in half—all magic consists Of a handful of tricks. You learn them quickly And live with great sorrow. Trade secret number one: Those who know don’t talk. Number two: those who talk Don’t know. Number three: none of my tricks is magic, But no one can explain them anyway.


	Angio Gram Poems by Charles Potts Cover by Luis Garcia		Samson in the Ambulance If your heart attacks While mine retreats, Watch my tombstone EKGs Ratchet back to ordinary And realize it was a bad time To be without An up-to-date List of my Near death experiences. When you get to the truth Does the truth get to you?		Serious As a Heart Attack Serious as a heart attack People say Trying for emphasis. I've heard the phrase. Now I can use it With authority. What does serious mean to you? Matter of life and death? "Stop acting like it was a Matter of life and death," My mother used to say. How serious was he? Serious as a heart attack.

	A Year in Cows Poems by Jane Booth Cover by author		Late September The earth is fat and rich and generous from all our rains, crawdads crawling out of the creeks and burrowing in the fields. And really, these autumn skies have been beautiful, the storms fantastic. The lightening at night is spectacular—the trees turn white and the sky black, and then they switch places and then back again. No one’s sleeping after 2 a.m. A long slow ride through all the corners of the ranch yesterday revealed no struck cattle. In the Flint Hills, there were eight that went down at once, a smoldering carpet of cows found in the morning.

	Even Steven Poems by Luis Garcia Cover by author Artwork by author		THINKING for Steve Arnaudo I am thinking sadly of the Grand Canyon. I am thinking sadly of how the stories of our lives are quickly being told— of how our lives themselves quickly and quietly unfold. I am thinking sadly— this is the way it is, this is always the way it is. I am thinking sadly of peaches and ice cream, and of the love-stained words which inhabit my dreams.		I am thinking sadly of porcelain cups filled to the brim with piping hot tea. I am thinking sadly of you. I am thinking sadly of me. I am thinking sadly of a bird of ashes which is building its nest in the branches of an ancient tree. Hands of mist are beating this gong. Lips of mist are blowing this trumpet which is overflowing with darkness— are singing this song which like our lives does not last long.

	Celestial Cattlecall Poems by Lee Harris Cover designed by Richard Denner		MY HEROES HAVE ALWAYS BEEN YOGIS I grew up a loser and dreamed about yogis who lose their self all life long, I read Mila Repa and tried with my guitar to pick out his no-self song my third eye could not see what old mahasiddhis saw when they were crazy or straight, but finally I got wise to just what they realized—go wise up before it’s too late! My heroes have always been yogis...and they still are today, so I found me a Lama as brave as a Brahma bull rider		what more can I say Some yogis are rude with strange attitudes, "don’t you hang on to nothin’ too long," eat what you’re given and pray for a livin near burning ghats where dead belong, dance with a Dakini who drinks blood martinis then fades back to emptiness, when you really get beat—time to stop your retreat...only three years have passed more or less, my heroes have always been yogis and a yogi I’ll become some day, when I die it don’t matter cause my mind stream won’t scatter while my ashes drift slowly away

	Lemon Leg Dances Among Eager Circus Afternoons Poems by Kim Secunda Cover by author		on a perilous night suspended by golden cords little sister blew on the mirror of Union thirsty for daybreak weeping for the hungry dog she sank back on the cushion to die a horse sat beside on the river of stairs and ate candy		bitter moonlight falls on the cold little monkey He shall enter this room razorblade smile menthol moonbeam He shall walk down with Night

	Rebel Girls Poems by Leila Castle Cover by author		REBEL GIRLS Flying free that is our true nature riding our dancing ponies across the sky streaming garlands racing comets spraying rainbows fleets of dakinis naked and laughing in cowboy boots no monastery filled with monks this time renegade tulkumas incognito		HORSES Neighing horses wake me the ponds steam dawn mists curling through cattails Walking in the dark last night stumbling under a highway of stars jet black star-splashed milky way spray looks like appaloosa spots reflected in the pond water magic mirror Coyotes yip on the edge of dreams

	Double Play Poems by Luis Garcia and Richard Denner Cover by Luis Garcia		DOUBLE PLAY The Dodgers are tied, tied up with the Giants, tied up in the cellar. Bats hang from the ceiling. Balls you need them to play the game right. Now write down the pitch. Write down the middle. Words don't strike any out, don't strike any out.		FRIENDS A man starts a fire in a fire place. Another man starts a fire in a fire pit. Two friends are lit by a single flame that dances to a sound it hears in a place as round as it can be— a circle of fire, a circle of friends.