from Silence Louder Than A Train – Modern Romantic


 

 

 

 

 

 

Come on over to my room
I’m in a bad way

I see that’s how it is with you
I’ve been thinking of someone
You have been thinking of them too

Let’s take advantage of each other
Our morals are unassailable
Let’s be different and not call it love
Though that won’t solve our problems

Let us be honest in our insincerity
Admit we wish again we could be
With the unbroken flame:
that one most unavailable

You’ll have to excuse me once more
I lost my manners for a few years
I’m happy where I’ve always been

Who needs another death, amidst
The incestuous circle of ghosts and friends
If you agree, I’ll meet with you sometime

When you nor I remain, haunted,
by this and other affairs of cash flow:
the adulterated distances of loose ends

©Dean Baker

-excerpt from Silence Louder Than A Train, 103 pages, $11.99, ebook $5.99

$14.99 Canadian

New WordPress – new poems, new book forthcoming, poetry samples


MOVED HERE – > WRITINGS OF DEAN BAKER

for updates, poems, excerpts from my forthcoming book

https://writingsofdeanbaker.wordpress.com/2019/12/09/other-planets/

https://writingsofdeanbaker.wordpress.com/2019/12/10/the-first-bus-to-arrive/

SOME REVIEWS

©Dean J. Baker

121 pages, $13.99, ebook $7.99 – the latest book; Petty Gods Of Apparent Decline https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1091177414

Poetry that is classic and timeless.’

Vital, intense and uncompromising – singular in clarity, artistry, and authenticity.

Work which illuminates as it informs – a reviving sense of discovery and perspective.’

 Soliloquies Of The Horizons, 102 pages, Book 2 of The Prose Poems, $12.99 print, $6.99 ebook

book 1 of The Prose Poems is The Moon Worn Tides,120 pages, $13.99, ebook $7.99

you don’t get the entire import of the poems in a book unless you can read and re-read – you must own the book, in more ways than one..”- C. Harold

https://writingsofdeanjbaker.wordpress.com

https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

 

Toronto: This Used To Be My City


 

 

 

 

 

 

This used to be my city, that had
not become a Third World country
where I’d fail to classify immigrants
by their methods or prospects
for wielding murder, the damages

Where I would walk past midnight
unarmed except for poetry and my guitar,
mobile from Bloor St. to Queen
past 2 am for the streetcar, no thoughts
given to congregations of assholes

The offers of women, drugs and other
lies laid out with the singular subway
the medium for contrary ways of
contained assault: the coward commuters,
guilty bystanders crouched in conquest

Now hunched and mouing in defeat, the
cops state your word against theirs always,
the crowd scurries around in escape;
the millionaires have taken over the short
parade, not saying: you’ve been priced out of existence

© Dean J. Baker 

(c)All Rights Reserved

$15.70 print Can., https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/150052591X 12.99, ebook $6.99 US

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/150052591X