Here is a sample poem from his recently-released book:
32. Machinist in the Snow
If I lift the ocean in an invisible cup, the root of water
would make a new home in the brain of oxygen. A barren
land emerges. Elephant tusks, radiator, the milk of all mammals
spoiled in jars. You emerge follow me
and where have I lost
the scent of the past. A television it's time
scuttles the cracked, evaporated floor. Who
are you? The shadows you
have followed me till now then retreat always you
into the propellers of time. No light from the sun,
it returns home to the underside of the earth. A music
bubbles like soap have heard me
into my ears, a tambourine, snare. You with your
speaker of what I have left. I stand and what
now will I do? If you are here to tell me, then tell me.
If you are here to reset this body, then do so
delicately. The water is restless in its suspension. But this sand
is breathing again. To make one move, is to
terrify another. I cannot you will
do this begin
again again.
(Previously published in Thrush Poetry Journal.)
During AWP, Larry will most often be found at the Book Fair Table (# 1132), for Orange Monkey Publishing (he founded the press). He will be reading at the Superstition Review reading on Wednesday, 5:00 p.m., at The Panorama: 1122 W 24th St, LA CA 90007, and also be at the Orange Monkey Publishing / ELJ Publications reading at Ham and Eggs Tavern, Thursday at 5:00 p.m., 433 W 8th St. Los Angeles, CA 90014. If you don't know Larry, stop by and meet him and try to make at least one of his readings. His award-winning first collection, Flight of August, will also be available at the Trio House Press Table (#1204).
32. Machinist in the Snow
If I lift the ocean in an invisible cup, the root of water
would make a new home in the brain of oxygen. A barren
land emerges. Elephant tusks, radiator, the milk of all mammals
spoiled in jars. You emerge follow me
and where have I lost
the scent of the past. A television it's time
scuttles the cracked, evaporated floor. Who
are you? The shadows you
have followed me till now then retreat always you
into the propellers of time. No light from the sun,
it returns home to the underside of the earth. A music
bubbles like soap have heard me
into my ears, a tambourine, snare. You with your
speaker of what I have left. I stand and what
now will I do? If you are here to tell me, then tell me.
If you are here to reset this body, then do so
delicately. The water is restless in its suspension. But this sand
is breathing again. To make one move, is to
terrify another. I cannot you will
do this begin
again again.
(Previously published in Thrush Poetry Journal.)
During AWP, Larry will most often be found at the Book Fair Table (# 1132), for Orange Monkey Publishing (he founded the press). He will be reading at the Superstition Review reading on Wednesday, 5:00 p.m., at The Panorama: 1122 W 24th St, LA CA 90007, and also be at the Orange Monkey Publishing / ELJ Publications reading at Ham and Eggs Tavern, Thursday at 5:00 p.m., 433 W 8th St. Los Angeles, CA 90014. If you don't know Larry, stop by and meet him and try to make at least one of his readings. His award-winning first collection, Flight of August, will also be available at the Trio House Press Table (#1204).
Larry Eby is the author of two books of poetry, Flight
of August, winner of the 2013 Louise Bogan Award from Trio House Press, and
Machinist in the Snow, ELJ Publications 2015. His work can be found in Forklift,
Passages North, Fourteen Hills, Thrush Poetry Journal, and others. He is
the Editor in Chief of Orange Monkey Publishing, a poetry press in
California.
1 comment:
I wish you had remarked about the engaging language right justified and italicized in the poem. So intriguing and, as far as I know, original. A good poem to share here.
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