Accepting The Challenge


 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not meant to be an old trick. I
found myself, finding
you.
No formula for words to please.

You cannot heal the deaf god.
Consult the lists
of dialog,
obituary notices your spirit keeps.

I came to it broken,
a full stop:
never knowing there already was
no avenue of retreat.

©Dean J. Baker

excerpt from The Eschatological Dog only 5.99 ebook

©Dean J. Baker

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Outer Planets


 

 

 

You have decorated your space with things
of relevance, nothing that does not signify
aspirations to a better time; there are memories
in each. How you felt, what prompted the recovery
of a gift, the untenable medium of deriving
comfort through being surrounded. It is not
a child’s idea of an insular fort, you are by now
far beyond such measures.

One day the tedium will set itself off surprisingly.
If you are to have any hope at all, you will deny
this is happening to what defines you. You might
first explain it as an itch, not the sudden unbearable
weight of feeling under such pressure
that you cannot begin to explain to yourself
the agonizing drift toward obsolescence, except
you know gravity has its place too.

Probably beyond metaphysics and even the reach
of Rumi’s wisdom, it’s the north pole shifting
a few untenanted degrees, the equator tightening its belt.
Signs you read of some grand finale inarticulate
amidst all spheres of influence. Perhaps inner
paralysis or a lingering stretch of being deaf will become
your temporary reply as you bargain
for the island of oasis to answer with the ecstasy of enlightenment.

Since what really matters, and this is all about your
new-found awareness of reality and the metaphysical,
is inaudible in the lengthening stillness, not what is spoken day to day,
amid the memories, their representatives suddenly bereft
of a familiar charm, almost threatening; telling you, you’re
one of us now, where else could you belong:
your answer is the music of silences, out alone
among the star-shaped drape of night across the outer planets.

©Dean J. Baker

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DarkEarth

 

 

The Myth Of Liberation


Precious1 (640x480)

 

 

You became the man
you always wanted to marry
I could not long for you
as the woman you tried to bury
Now there are no choices
open anywhere,
in mangers or in stables

So you join the women’s club
with their venom to feel as one; among
the defeminized angels of love,
abandoning even the sacred heart
you mean to carry in the dark:
perhaps forever, Joan of Arc,
that would not still the many voices

©Dean J. Baker

excerpt from Silence Louder Than A Train  only 10.99 print, or 7.99 ebook – never know what you’ll find in my books..buy one, you’ll love it

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Get Married


indextr

 

 

 

 

 

 

You go into the city from your provincial fleapit, expecting
friends and meditation.
A friend, who happens to be female, at this or any other time
does and does not object to kisses.

But she has been attacked in one day by a 12 yr old pervert, a
moaning female dwarf named Myra; and a cretinous slob who works
the city’s transit system in search of virginal passengers.

You come back from the maze, your friend is Circe – any other
pal lies and delays.
The countryside is a cesspool the city abrogates, bullies
into the idyllic.

A lover has turned sour, regimenting housework; and under
all their insect gaze, you are just as small.

©Dean J. Baker

excerpt from The Transits Of Revelation – this book is solely prose poems

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Silence Louder Than A Train  only 10.99 print, or 7.99 ebook

The Lost Neighborhood only 7.99 print, or 4.99 ebook

Dark Earth only 12.16, or 8.99 ebook – great reviews!

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