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Amiri Baraka / from "Poetry in Motion" by Ron Mann


excerpt from sect. 8 of "soul dog solo" 


At the woods edge, in a thicket
of stunted trees, its nest wedged
in the crotch between 2 branches,
the catbird finds its niche.

Click to read more ...


A Week before Your Trip to Pakistan

revised version of poem originally published in National Catholic Reporter

At dawn, like the snow that fell
during the night, the mind
covers what it rests upon.

The storm, over.  The wind groans
in the birdhouse feeding hole.  The temperature:
7 above zero.

"Everything looks pristine," you email
from Geneva.  It also
snowed there last night, you say.

The eye's whiteness blankets
the ground.  Silence
of the long wait.  But for what?

Untouched snow slopes downhill
to where
the road twists violently upward.  

Sooner or later we find out
what happens next.  A chance
to be good?  To disappear?  

Snowy-branched trees, each
almost too alive, stretch beyond
what the eye can see.  



Below is a self-portrait.  A poem is written on it.  The piece was created over Easter weekend 2013, a few days following open heart surgery.  My state of mind and physical condition following the operation resulted in my responding to the Easter story in a personal way. Beneath the graphic, which I've uploaded in reduced size, is a copy of the poem so it can be easily read.  It is dedicated to a friend, David Coughlin. 


for David Coughlin

Unsteady on my legs, I gazed around, craving
something from

Click to read more ...


self-portrait after open heart surgery

Verticle sutures where chest was cut / 3 lower sutures for drainage tube insertion