Pictures from Recent Readings for Fall 2016!!!

October 15, 2016 –  Chester, NY

 

 

October 20, 2016 – New London, CT @ The Telegraph

 

 

FEATURING:

Tom Weigel

Richard Martin

Heather Rae Patterson

Bruce McDermott

Jake St. John

Frederick-Douglass Knowles II

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New Bedford Book Festival…A SUCCESS!

What a great weekend!  What wonderful time spent at this lovely whaling port in Massachusetts!

I’d like to thank Steve Froias and co. for organizing such a wonderful event and giving an outlet for the small presses to shine and feel validated for all our hard work.

Much love to Groundwork!  for providing such a vibrant space to host the event as well.

The following are some pics from the event and yours truly promoting Good Cop’s family of poets.

– Daniel S. Boroughs

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Cotton Dreams

30

A cotton ball smudges
A dream into mixed memories
The made up façade in disarray
How the mirror of reality
Is a sharp distortion of the truth
The complex concrete roads taken
Or prescribed, whatever your preference
For purpose on this earthly voyage
Some look to the sea, some to highest altitudes
Some to outstretched hands over the furnace
In their combat against hunger and the chill of a moon
Steaming near starlight with reflective glow
The shuddering with eyes glazed over
Red blood vessels dipped in a silken rouge lipstick
From the opaque to the lucid
These dreams wire together stories
A set of teeth gnaw at daily nutrients
Mincing them into digestible bits
So they are easy to stomach
Easy to live with
The harrowing richness of their imagery
Capturing the salt of the earth
Its inner peace and devastation
Distilled, moved to tears from
Smoke in the room
How it floats by, seizes soul after soul
Yellowed teeth and reddening eyes
The oxygen in the night
Escaping, dissipating, eaten alive
With the heat soaring up from below
Takes shape, takes form
As a heavy weight
On the back of the half asleep
Muted children, gaping with fear
We usher them out first
Heroes of their own dreams
They emerge debilitated
The safety net full of holes
Yet the support system intact
They are the other
The bodies shaded from history’s view
A cold sets in
And loosens the teeth
Harder to consume meaning
For this neglect
From this point forward
It is stored within us
And locked up
To later be thrown against walls
Now a puzzle of recollection
That only rears its head
In deep slumber
These bodies worn down
Thank each other for their preservation
The dawn of the working week is oppressive.

– Daniel S. Boroughs  

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Today in New London

for Tom Weigel

the jazz
of your poems
still echo
on city corners
and bounce
off battered
buildings
they race
down streets
on skateboards
and spill out
in conversations
at coffee shops
and taverns
they crawl
across yards
like the neighbor’s cat
leaving footprints
in the snow
and they sing
like little birds
in the trees
whose leaves
have fluttered
in the wind
like your words
and I sit here
east of the sun
reading your books
and listening
to the rain
rattle the gutters
like your typewriter
rattling the night
as your poems
float out
onto the sidewalk
and sprout
like flowers
in the moonlight

-Jake St. John

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Assisted Living

My helpless body pleads for power
Mixed in a bag are teeth and sustenance
They keep my smile full and well-fed
Self-fulfillment and safety
Limp-wristed I cannot check the pulse
Check the time
This devil in me a dog in the sun
I hear the hours echo
Throughout my chest cavity
As if every moment counts by quaking within
I cannot settle like my fellow man
Running out of breath is not an option
I counsel myself in these near-death moments
As if to preserve the boy in me
Preserve the echo of memory
Preserve any strength that can be passed down
Onto family and into a sun setting peacefully
In the throat of a child
Now ready to care for others

The ridges of her yellowed skin felt youth through and through
The gesture to restore longevity to the fallen
A gentle hand through hair
Change for some coffee
The memories echo by
The shuffling feet at the edge of frozen waters
Car rides spanning the length of winter
This is the time of year the elements tire out
And sprawl over the ground exhausted

I plead, laid out for a niche to lift me off the ground
There will always be one in the dust at my fingertips
I catch a sound in the distance, a rally behind me
They come to covet my body
To search for the gentle soul within
And pull it by the jaw and neck
Into an abyss of loathing and repudiation
I need to teach me before they erase me

By the season’s end I am at the final sunset
Before leaves hatch open
And her swansong is performed
Thanks to you I am bold as ever
I am power, through and through.

– Daniel S. Boroughs

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Eulogy for Father Dougal

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Father Dougal Maguire

Holding on to a friend
Who is the protector of his own heart
No fear in each other’s eyes
What we have earned in each other
The respect, the trust, the companionship
I hold close
He snarls at those who do not understand

The freedom, the gallop, the neighborhood
He floats into night
He floats into the darkest evening he’s ever faced
He does not turn back from it, he cannot

When he sits waiting for me
The day breaks through the window
He is eager, he is insistent that I take notice
He needs to pee
I honor his wishes as quickly as I can
We jog through the front door into the cold
We are working stiffs and we are friends
Taking charge on the land
I am happy that he is happy
And it is done

The deep courage to survive
Does not yield in him
He designs his own fate
Like no other animal could
He can get grumpy
He can snatch food
He is a bubby

This is me
Holding onto a friend
Like I never could before
I gather him close
He does not yield
He will never yield.

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Charlie Chaplin – As I Began to Love Myself – Self Love Poem

Source: Charlie Chaplin – As I Began to Love Myself – Self Love Poem

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