Out there, it’s pure death;
not white as what might be a
first November snow, but as cold
and disappearing:
as the breath which impels me

On my way before breaking,
flesh and bones;
into the single spot of silence,
that we feel:
weighs us down as we move upward, equally

©Dean J. Baker

  • excerpt from: one of my books! BUY it…

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**BUY A BOOK!*** These posts are a means to solicit interest in owning my books, and thus spread the influence of poetry.

—–>  for those unused to poetry, I’d recommend my award winning book DARK EARTH as an entry point to my work

https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/a-reason-why-you-need-to-own-dark-earth/ or Silence Louder Than A Train


The Gift





I have discovered my beauty
It didn’t happen overnight

Many years of silence did their work
and getting used to fright

This used to be a problem
when I wanted to fight

And all the beautiful women
would not say Good night

I thought that I had fallen
but I had not fallen yet

I step from my shadow
much to your regret

©Dean J. Baker

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Conspiring Distance





I am the fallen.

The runaway son, born and reborn through transpiring muck.
Crossing; the wide distances, currency. A dissonance
commanding recognition.

This does not go easy on anyone persuaded that they
themselves are listening.

I am an assassin familiar; wanting to break your memory
of the balance of secrets.
The ransom unpaid by forged documents.

Let alone sheaves of thought stacked against the
moonlight of your staring heart.

©Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from The Transits Of Revelation

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Any Old Tune




I haven’t any explanation
for your loving patience;
I feel bankrupt:
a stranger to love’s glories

And I prefer to fight
the fire,
rather than signal: that smoke
blinds and disfigures

Though you and I know,
the real flame
purifies our stories: giving
grace in what we bring to light

©Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from OUR GEOGRAPHIES


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When you are soaked with love,
the dream come true, flesh
meeting flesh, which those two minds
direct; neither from below nor above,
I fold up in you, renewing stealth.

Only as it should be, needing
no comment from us, who speak
in syllables of silence and deceit:
the past a death we live through,
hand-in-hand with each stalled move.

I take your sigh, place the wish
upon my neck; the embrace
sets free both night and day, we
hold the light against dead time: suddenly,
call the miracle to task again.

©Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from DARK EARTH


My books on sale! https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/all-print-books-links/