History is Cyclical

 Egyptian Dendara Temple 1995 BC. What does that tell us?

-Daniel Canada aka Obsidian

About Zen is Now Book Release

 

I just want to take this time out to express my gratitude to all you poets and readers out there, that purchased an advance, “Pre-release” copy of my poetry anthology, “Zen is Now,” online @ the Smashword site. I am sincerely honored to see so many orders.  I would like to take this opportunity to invite those of you who haven’t already, to place your orders in before the release date of September 26^th. Thank you all kindly and I look forward to hearing feedback from you as well!

Here's the Smashword site: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1035093

-Obsidian

Farewell Mine Captain Jay Chollick Poet Laureate of the World

 

 

No Bio b-s, not for me, just blow-hard pride, dull facts that mask thin poetry -Jay Chollick Madman Speaking New storms up there—thunder in the head—bravado-brained, it bursts! and with such force, that I, with terrifying hands, now coddle meteors! Will myself cruciferous. And briny dazzled, turn sudden clam! owning, as if born into it, its Morbid juice. I will—I must! toward foreign ecstasy, creep newly born—or eel-like, twist; work heavy human into it, find glass and there somehow, re-silver Youth and touch in mirrored memory the acned boy; slim blush and fumbled sexuality—to be ingenious! To throw off cells, leap leaping from oneself, pop-eyed and singing madrigals!—to be another’s bloodline, flowing Smooth. But pity—all these flame-lit possibilities, seem repugnant now, they bring me, tugging madness, to the sharpest edge I feel Unhinged. This brain has rust corroded lobes, they make me thrash; or glued to stodgy platforms, make me sit; watch fireflies; the deep bending of a continent, the twilit haze—but not, full-flood organic, to partake of them, to simply Sit; grow thin, dry husked, and papery—to lose the wing; the latitude; the infinity of lines. And who denied their liquid fingers, touches light? This sanity is Too sad for me. I’d rather say—come here magnificence! you be gardenia; and I, turning leather—oxford or anklestrap, I’m someone’s Shoe