Limited Copies Are Still Available
Thanks to terrific prepublication orders from my amazingly supportive family, friends, colleagues, and students, Finishing Line Press released Such Dust as a limited edition of 500 copies. It is currently available from Amazon.com, as well as Finishing Line Press. The books are beautiful, so order your copy before they sell out.
“Exacerbation” and “Progression” appeared in Kaleidoscope #66 in February 2013.
“The Giving Up Box” is forthcoming in Pearl 47 in Spring 2013.
“Learning You Still” appeared in Kaleidoscope #65 in July 2012.
Check out “Why I Love Lake Arrowhead” – my guest blog for Lake Arrowhead Life at http://lakearrowhead.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/LAL_april2012.pdf
“Snow Day” appeared in Edgz #18 in July 2011.
“Tents” appeared in Edgz #18 in July 2011.
“After the Fire” appeared in Pearl 43 in December 2010.
“Late Harvest” appeared in Oracle Literary Journal Vol. 7-2008.
Something about Stephen Dunn’s collection, Between Angels, resonates for me no matter where the book itself is resting. “Tenderness” had a deep impact on my chapbook, Such Dust. Enjoy.
and I hadn’t learned
young men learn from women
I was twenty-three,
she thirty-four, two children, a husband
Yelled at, slapped
around, all she knew of tenderness
was how much she wanted it, and all
were back seats and a night or two
in a sleeping bag in the furtive dark.
in the same office, banter and loneliness
leading to the shared secret
that to help
National Biscuit sell biscuits
was wildly comic, which led to my body
existing with hers
like rain that’s found its way underground
to water it naturally joins.
I can’t remember
ever saying the exact word, tenderness,
though she did. It’s a word I see now
you must be older to use,
you must have experienced the absence of it
often enough to know what silk and deep balm
when at last it comes. I think it was terror
at first that drove me to touch her
then selfishness, the clear benefit
of doing something that would come back
to me twofold,
and finally, sometime later, it became
reflexive and motiveless in the high
ignorance of love.
Oh abstractions are just abstract
until they have an ache in them. I met
a woman never touched
gently, and when it ended between us
I had new hands and new sorrow,
everything it meant
to be a man changed, unheroic, floating.