The Chapbook: Poems by Charles Bane Jr.

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My first day of normalcy after a week of serious illness. Thank you for your kind words about my work in your last letter.

POETRY – Thunder, Lightning by Charles Bane Jr.

Alas, I do not read Hebrew. Stone in an interview when he was in his eighties, discussing his delight in learning Greek when he was retired.

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The narrative is raw, tribal, and unaccountably moving. But it is not the King James, which I keep by my bed to reassure myself that miracles take place in poetry and that genius is always new under the sun.

Undying Light: Charles Bane, Jr. Reads His Poetry

I preserve our letters and their camaraderie. When I go to my desk to write, I say to myself, I have a friend who searches out the best and is persuaded that everything that is beautiful is of a common thing and, wrested alone by artists, is borne in flocks.

A late June night in Florida is like every other month of the year, except that the poinciana trees are in bloom for these weeks only and the grass below them is red and bright yellow. If the Florida resident wants changes of season, he or she must make them up and pretend that the Royal Palm trees brought from Hawaii where they grow as tall as buildings are oak or maple in the season they are remembering. For the rest, the year here is not of season, but of tide.

Strange Horizons - Charles Bane, Jr. By Strange Horizons

At low tide on the Intracoastal Waterway, alligators sleep near the fishermen who walk onto the mud to catch their supper, or go shrimping with net and lantern. It is fine to write poetry, but it is fine also not to, to have a finished manuscript in the hands of a book designer and not to be lost in the physics of verse. It is better than writing poetry to leave the windows open at bedtime and hear mockingbirds all night, and to be piped by birds to a cafe to read and watch the sunrise like a starfish.

It is better still to be with my son without distraction and to have breakfast and talk. If you are reading Hemingway it is almost always Fall or early Spring, and Melville loves the snow that falls on the waves. Tonight, here, poems have raised their oars to the sky and time is slowed and prized.

Flash Non-Fiction and Poem | Charles Bane, Jr.

Visit his official website here. Learn more about her at her official site.

Editor Carrie Seitzinger , Letters , July 29th, Tonight, here, poems have raised their oars to the sky Jamie McCartney Embracing the individuality and differences of genitalia. Poetry Suite by Jeanann Verlee Me, a rusted hammer. How much beautiful must I kill? The Cigarettes by D. Introduction Writing Poetry In The Hotel M As Einstein Pedaled M My Old Soul M Come Si Dice M Come, Beloved M I Must Write M You A Certain Chord M Robert Frost M Undying Light M Picassos' Guitar M In Paris M It Flows Unstopped M In The Hotel As Einstein Pedaled My Old Soul Come Si Dice I Must Write You A Certain Chord It Flows Unstopped Globally published poet Charles Bane Jr.

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