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Excerpts

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In The Shimmering Silver Pool


never has it not existed
the candle flickers without dripping
tomorrows never pause their pirouetting
its eyes no longer blink
but it looks to be dreaming
its mouth dropped off its face
its dream is an immense silence
a submerged, combusting
cataclysmic secret
it was once an earthling
and it tried to disclose
the secret
but its lips boiled off
teaching supplication
before the silent, searing
Secret




like the Renegade
im riding through the desert
like the Übermensch
a camel carries me over dunes
and into hollows

no longer
am i overwrought by the thought
of oases

mirages in perpetuity
become like grains of sand
or blanched pangs of thirst


 

Mirages in Perpetuity

Forgiving


could you forgive me?
could you forgive me my aqueousness?
my plunges, my plungedness?
my drowning, my drownedness?
could you also then forgive me my
eruptions from the sea,
and my fiery ascensions?

is my waterloggedness forgiven
by my wind-and-flame whippedness?
don’t the two lick up my drenchedness
and crisp me unto falling
into the dark water?

can i forgive all oblique basins
forgiving me overmuch to drink?
does stronger, more frantic heat
forgive my wet obliqueness?

can i go so far as to thank
the (de)void for its
black ice?
does not the black ice
Prolong and enrich
my evaporation and
dispose me towards
sunnier sunbeams?

Can, would, my friends
forgive my whetting words
and my constant precipitousness?

would you trust my sunbeams in myriad
to crisp my transgressions
and reveal anew the
rainbows refracting
and rolling off my raised
body, as i shoot up
, patiently ,
from the sea?


 

Works

Works

Purchase your copy of Rose Notebook, my first work of poetry.

 

Everything about RN is personal; the paper is different for each copy, each cover is unique, some are marked with a fingerprint of ink and others are sealed.

 

The physical manifestation (8 x 8) is as important as the poetry itself; are not gateways as nefarious and compelling as what they contain? Well, they should be. 

 

If I could grow each tree, I would, but what of the very earth, which recoils from ownership?

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In The Press

Bluestockings in Lower East Side, will soon be carrying a limited number of original copies of Rose Notebook.

The Fordham University poetry publication, the Comma, is publishing its third poem by AWC, tune in late September to see!

Pick up a copy of the Fordham Observer for an article written by Kyle J. Killkenny. We discuss the impetus for my first book of Poetry, Rose Notebook, as well as influences and upcoming projects.

Bio

I began writing poetry at 15, on uncertain terms, mostly driven by the notion that it was what I should be doing. Being an avid reader pushed me towards poetry, not because I enjoyed or had even read much poetry, but simply because I admired writers more than anyone else on earth.

Every day I write and wonder if I am becoming my poetry or vice-versa. Silence prevails. Questions work themselves out and clandestinely disorient and direct to the enshrouded beginning, the impetus leaning towards novelty and consummation.

In The Press
Bio

Contact

Tel: 813-766-9754 | awcpoetry@gmail.com

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