Spot of Poetry

Aside from prose, and screenplays, I also write poetry. It is, in fact, my first writing genre and have a book of published poetry, Icono. After going back over that poetry I realize I was far too hasty and should have waited. But I was impulsive and felt I needed something out there, pressed and bound, immediately.

This poem is for a new book, one that I'm to enter in the Dorset Prize, from Tupelo Press. 1st Prize is $10,000 and publication. Yeah, I think I could go for that. I'll post several of them periodically as I work and rework them. Poetry has always been both fun and a deep mess. You have to pluck from places you wouldn't normally go, and it's quite draining. Could be why I haven't even touched the stuff for six or seven months.

Death Lies

I would, if
the Powers that be might let me,
(They might as well, it’s a mutual enemy)
but I’d sure punch the face of Death
and hope that it would
not hook back.
A Golden Gloves bout,
or up-the-anty with
Vegas Night—
dance round it dance round it dance round it—
butterfly butterfly butterfly:
not even a finger did touch and
old heavyweight death lies.