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Friday, May 10, 2013

Gods of Water and Air Coming Out Soon!

My new poetry collection, Gods of Water and Air, will be released by Kelsay Books in the fall of this year. A mix of poems, prose poems, essays, and even a short play, it will be an homage to the forces that grew me and sustain me: the ocean's edge, the people shaped by this landscape, our history, and above all love's failures and victories. Death's failure to erase it. It is really a book of odes  to these daily gods. Thank you, Karen Kelsay, for selecting it and giving me such scope to finish it! Here's a sample:


O Beautiful

As we pull up and park at Point Reyes,
            a woman lowers
            her binoculars,
                                    and points: Eagle! 
            We raise our glasses and scan
the hills, see a white-headed fledgling
                        standing on a ridge, outstretched
                                    wings sieving the wind.
            His pharaonic beaked head
                        turns slowly. Through trembling
                                    lenses, we watch the Golden
                        Quarter come alive--
                                    O, beautiful
                       
                        Descending to the estuary,
we leave behind his practice flights,
            as he hoists up, free-falls and strikes.
                        His freedom is law-forged.
                                    He’s a leashed kite
            tethered to this range
                        where a few more eagles
                                    nest each year, their circles
            pruning shore and sky.
                                   
                        At the Lindsay Wildlife Hospital,
            a tethered eagle hops atop a cage.
His broken wing created a captivity
                        where he’ll live longer
                                    than his cliff-roaming
            cousins. He flaps
                        in tight
                                    circles,
snapping
his wings’ dark flags.
                        We stand back,
                                    doubting the chain
                        as he puzzles us
                                    with a hard black eye.

originally published in Terrain