Snake-pal Taylor Graham (Rattlechap #5) has a new chapbook out from Dancing Girl Press, called Under the Shuttle, Awake. Here's the skinny:
Under the Shuttle, Awake
poems by Taylor Graham
Dancing Girl Press, 2005
$5.00 (includes S&H): www.angelfire.com/poetry/dancinggirlpress
“This latest collection of Graham’s work leads us through the eerie moonlit world and the shadows that linger at the edges in broad daylight. These are poems that turn an image on a dime and haunt you long after you’ve set the book aside.” - Kristy Bowen
Here are two poems from Under the Shuttle, Awake:
HOLLYWOOD & VINE
—Taylor Graham
How many light-years till a star’s shine
reaches us in our earthly darkness?
All the men-in-black have made their living
by our blindness.
And yet, catch a falling
if you can. They say God pledges
constancy in stars
above mountains, stars beyond the murk
of city lights.
You came here with constellations
on your mind. But in the thick night sky
you only see how mortals
have stepped in mud
to watch it harden around the print
of each flat sole.
Somebody points higher. Heavenly
bodies. In the northeast
Marilyn dazzles down: a trinity of stars
suggests her smile; seven others,
her mythic fly-away skirt.
The next constellation over,
isn’t that DiMaggio?
Every little star we see
is dead, but in our hearts
we don’t believe it.
(first appeared in Chautauqua Literary Journal)
WAKING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
—Taylor Graham
you map the backside of the moon
using blips just broken off from dreams,
and hints and winks from the sly tipped face
at its palest quarter.
You knew a lady once who moon-mapped
for a living; who played with lunar-probes
and manned space-flight photos, rocket-science
far beyond the means of a shift-insomniac;
and when that lady finished with the moon,
she bought herself a Harley
and whizzed around the Beltway with a black
pet buzzard unfurled on her shoulders,
wings wide to the wind.
What can an hourly mortal do
with just the mind’s imagination?
When you finish with the moon’s backside,
you’ll slip out a window
in search of the huge white bird who tips
and glides by night, wings extended
wide as dreams.
(first appeared in Some Words)
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Way to go, TG!
Don't forget tonight's reading at HQ (15th & R, Sacramento): REACHING DOWN BENEATH LANGUAGE: An Evening of Poetry with Art Beck and B.L. Kennedy. Doors open at 7:30; $5 donation.
And then go back for Sac. Poetry Center's Monday night reading, which will feature Shallene Peat McGrath, 7:30.
—Medusa