..from DARK EARTH.. ‘Widows’

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

Their heads are bent
By another death:
the unlovely child
you always knew too much about.
They are carrying themselves.

They are carrying themselves
With taunts of Spring.
Do you not see how
they drive:
to meet the grinning, opened mouth.

©Dean Baker

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Cultural News

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

Cultural news of the day: Batman cacked, Isis attacked.

I #amwriting some great poems, but only I noticed.

Without alteration in these things –
whether I receive the Pulitzer Prize, or the Grand Slam
at that archetype of fine dining Denny’s – of
inverted totalitarianism where many fleas
attract unyielding attention to the minor
buzz and bite they and their
like contrive of architectural articulation –
describing exactly nothing in a unmemorable way

Of fake celebratory revelations enshrining deceit
and denial, while concealing
the approach of the creeping dead:
obviously our culture is poised for doom in this false dominion,
once again.

©Dean J. Baker




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from Of The Dominions Unleavened… ‘JUST’

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

Just because you have a voice
does not mean you have something to say
Just because the medium is available
does not mean you should use it
Because you can read does not mean
your understanding extends beyond the page

The only authority is not recognition since
lots of idiots recognize other fools:
they do not know they’re idiots, so
what could your excuse be in the baa-baabbling

Add to the cacophony, the rabble thrust
in hopes of being understand by overwhelming force
See, you too could be a numbskull

Perhaps right now you believe you’re thinking
well who do you think you are
how’d you get here, who supports this
and where is all your money and women, or men

Where’s the inviolable dignity
suggesting connections to the universe, greater
than the plague of miseries and toll-road joys
Show us, now

Refer please to the first words spoken here

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‘Conquerors’ from Blood Upon The Moon

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

Don’t take up the alarm about the invasion
Anyone with a sniff of wisdom knows it has begun

That it has been in place for the longest time, it’s
Our sense of fairness, the largesse of conquerors betrayed

Do not remind those who have families and friends
That anyone of them could be the enemy, dazzled with false

Idols and the indolent charms of the indebted slaves
Do not speak of the Barbarians at the gate, while the cities

Burn and spark and fires break out everywhere without origin
Do not mention history as a lesson, the abandonment of finery

And charm as the initial state of what the future brings
Where the aliens have occupied what greed left behind, deceit

Kept in place and refined so no final attack need take place
Anymore as the music plays, the dancers ticktock and sway to

The rhythm of the gathering wave…

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from one of my latest books – ‘In Its Beginnings’ from Celestial Migrations In The Empire

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

Every time I show you who I am,
you set me on fire saying Ash is such
a wonderful camouflage against disguise

For the patient kind not seeking to surprise,
love is the ordinary task
of managing consciousness and fine things

With pliers against skin, that velvet sin
no more, you bring me nothing
in the chemical exchange of mysteries

Undefined in our new century, we
map the boundaries unexplored
and fittingly prepare for the next disappearance

To materialize at our door: soliciting
butterflies who applaud our heart,
minus the clumsy contraption of wings

© Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from Celestial Migrations In The Empire, 122 pages, $14.99 – support my work, support independent poets, buy a book – join me on my other social sites

  • poems are posted to share, be shared, and entice those who love the work to owning the books from which the poems are…

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‘Incantatory Resolve’… from Blood Upon The Moon

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

I recycle the names as they
designate since older – age is
another territory, the other world

From the first ground the Cree girlfriend
let me say Fuqué, Chaney, Grandma
Ben, though none mine alone

Through Pékar, Federov, etcetera
the bullies barking
at my father’s young back, ‘Galician!’

Like a huge crow
perched on my shoulder’s memory
I know I think well, having

Eaten Descartes’ lunch, yet
indigestible Wittgenstein aligns my brow
while I’m battling the dancing skeletons

No Jason, no Argonauts
in a Baryshnikov ballet
against the panoramic black and white and grey

Toward that other horizon, no flat
earth, no soluable decay: this
conjugation, this incantatory resolve

©Dean J. Baker

  • excerpt from BLOOD UPON THE MOON, 132 pages, $15.99, ebook 5.99
  • my books are limited to a run of 500-1000 copies, after which they are discontinued and unavailable

  • poems are posted to share, be shared, and…

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Archilochus Laments

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

Because you live among cannibals
you search for certainty, slipping

with the unknown ease of one moment present,
the next, asleep
or dead, you settle into authority: the thief
of every deed and gift

the hemophiliac drifter in each, who
claims the rise and lift in everything

Setting straight the fools and liars
who ornament their emptiness with filigrees
of deceit, instead

unable to receive the quiet, the real light
like Europe used to be: history
of the people and by events, distinct
in an unlost significance of unseparated entities

All this until you cannot sit in a Parisian,
or Roman café, nor walk within the Florentine steps

without the ghosts of the invaders presenting
themselves as mere waiters
dispensing anticipation as if they were neither

foreign as you might claim yourself
nor from some ancient script you have not finished yet

© Dean J. Baker

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Summer Cold

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

No more standing in the hot as the 4yr old
baseball player Stella, shouts

Head cornmeal mush, sinus and throat a funnel
for brains out of focus to be gathered up

And hung out like a tattered laundry of
sacrificial clouds: flesh coalescing, then melting

Into the effluvia of misery where my head rings
hollow like a clown’s horn bellowing

Emergency from which no rest is imaginable
in this tortuous alchemy of lost possibilities

Renting space to impure thoughts, curses
and all the rot of mortality in these shadows

© Dean J. Baker

poems are posted to share, be shared, and entice those who love the work to owning the books from which the poems are excerpts



all my ebooks $2.99, print 9.99 and lower

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‘O Valentine’ from Celestial Migrations In The Empire

so buy and enjoy a book of mine – thanks!

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

O Valentine, such as this divine,
flesh of mine, let me claim the lie
which makes of everything
the low and high; the law, of crime
unrecognized, the deed a habit
of disguise for what is used and true
in each instance of denial we renew

Allow me no refusal where only I
decide between the garden and the gruel,
each banquet of removal on which we dine
so heartily even as I speak of
you in vowels, whispered in a time
gathering beneath this light
in arms we take from darkest night

© Dean J. Baker


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from Celestial Migrations In The Empire…’ Casting Runes Consisting Of The Landscape’

Poetry, lyrics and prose of Dean Baker

Born a second time on stones, over
grown cold and rough; stunted
self-regarding souls
bare moss hung on the indeterminate
hillside, while above or below, world

Carries on, you wake no longer weightless
unloved, at most a familiar comfort
paralysed or a ghost unseen; invisible,
deluged by complaints,
groaning over the abyss, its larger unwillingness

To hold onto anything you celebrate,
polishing the bones
of flesh hieroglyphs telling the same
story: casting runes consisting of the landscape,
to witness or map never enough

© Dean J. Baker

CELESTIAL MIGRATIONS IN THE EMPIRE $13.99 print, $4.99 ebook

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