from DARK EARTH… ‘ A Tourist Observing Ruins’

 

 

 

 

 

 

This house is so broken,
with the images
of what might have been;
the last experiment
a scientist’s shattered facilities,
a chemical residue

There is no cure for what
you think of tomorrow:
the hero in northern absences,
abandoned on an R.C.M.P post; perhaps
dying of tuberculosis in Rome,
longing to say ‘I did return’

While you and I are two guests
in the burned-out town,
survivors open to investigation;
departing into no sudden sunsets,
amid this most ordinary life:
of quarrels, and lovers gone

©Dean J. Baker

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My Latest Books

 

 

 

 

 

 

All of my print books are available at $7.99, $8.99, & $9.99 or less, and the ebooks are mostly $2.99 with the latest at $3.99, and a couple larger books at $4.99 – a few others that are higher will be lowered in price once they come off their Kindle promotion.

Especially in the moment for the new books:

I want these books to be read and enjoyed, so the price is an accommodation to what Amazon allows to be charged with a very small sum allocated for myself – usually slightly over a dollar in case of the print books, far less than that in regards to the ebooks which are priced at $2.99 to $3.99, including the ebooks for my latest books.

You can buy the print version and get the accompanying ebook for only 1.99 and .99 from Amazon.

Ebooks at $2.99 –

THE MOON WORN TIDES, Vol.1, The Prose Poems

SOLILOQUIES OF THE HORIZONS, VOL. 2, The Prose Poems

PROVENANCES AND PAROLES

THE POETRY HOTEL

THE MYTHOLOGIES OF LOVE

THE LOST CANADIAN, VOL. 1

THE LOST CANADIAN, VOL. 2

MEASURING GRAVITY BY GRACE, VOL. 1

OUR GEOGRAPHIES, VOL. 2

TORMENTING THE MONKEYsatires

COUSIN HAROLD’S ADVENTURES IN THE REAL WORLD – satires

Ebooks at $3.99 –

CELESTIAL MIGRATIONS IN THE EMPIRE

OF THE DOMINIONS UNLEAVENED

ALL THESE BEING HINTERLANDS

DARK EARTH

SILENCE LOUDER THAN A TRAIN

BLOOD UPON THE MOON

THE TRANSITS OF REVELATION

THE ESCHATOLOGICAL DOG

Ebooks at $4.99 –

IN RIPARIAN FIELDS

OF FLESH SCULPTURES AND ABANDONED LOVE

CELESTIAL MIGRATIONS IN THE EMPIRE published on Dec.20/17, and OF THE DOMINIONS UNLEAVENED, published a few weeks ago have a companion volume:

The third volume in the unofficial trilogy, ALL THESE BEING HINTERLANDS, my 25th book is published.

None of these were rushed out, thrown together in any hasty measure, but with care and dedication combined to come together in the writing, editing, and process of publication for a period of well over a year +.
It wasn’t until I began winnowing out any number of poems that didn’t fit with the themes I saw developing that the fact that there would be a few books, and then a third brought itself to light.

Enjoy.

[these books are very inexpensive $3, $4, $5 – why ‘click’ without a decision to buy?]

©Dean J. Baker

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

Nothing I Know

John Newlove

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An insult to the brain;
sun’s injury, this waking
before noon,
beneath the browed indifference
of Time, adventurer of our lives.

Who can tell that will? Each
whore and man
must dine amid swill and swallow
all: drown until
one rises where another fell.

Run, dark horse,
follow the body’s teachings:
how children have accomplished this,
turned back once, and turned into us:
nothing matters, now but results.

Dean J. Baker

-excerpt from The Lost Canadian, Vol.1, 112 pages, $14.99

*JOHN NEWLOVE

if you wish to add me on any social media sites – Facebook, Twitter, etc., – feel free to click the relevant links – https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com

Links to My Print and Ebooks

BIOGRAPHY

LITERARY PUBLICATIONS

Is it true that Toronto – and thus as a representative city, Canada – has turned into poo? or, Why Has Society Turned Into A Bunch Of Spastics On Fire

Are You A Citizen? Do You Feel You’re An Artist? Could You Possibly Be A Writer Of Poo-etry? –
Read this, or Remain A Tool

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1) Well, it’s true you need a shitload of money if you are going to live in Toronto.
2) You also need not mind the aggressive behavior of self-entitled screaming morons who mimic other morons elsewhere in the world protesting this, protesting that – everything except what needs protesting: the protesters, aka whiners.
3) You also have to not mind being assaulted, maybe beaten and robbed, because hey, the cops will do what they can about it: nothing. You’ve been beaten and assaulted… the cops only look after the fact, after the facts: got to keep their jobs, you know.

You also have to not mind that you don’t matter. High taxes, high prices, house prices fit for millionaires, no ability to defend yourself (it is actually against the Law, the law working out to: don’t hurt the criminal, they might charge you), common sense over-ruled by the numbers of multi-ethnicity guaranteeing that catering Liberals and their high-minded, low ethic standard will eclipse actual real life benefits to the most people.
As to #1:
1) Fuck the poor, those lazy bastards. This is governmental reasoning. ‘We work, and slave, and attempt for years to bump up their quality of life, and all they do is complain.’
2) Let us not understand that such attempts are inadequate due to the nature of bureaucracy being slow and behind the times (the necessities which they pretend to address) and thus have a built-in failure: guaranteeing further governmental bureaucracy and consistently disappointed poor.
3) The benefits: politicians. They have a lifelong job of establishing themselves as necessary without ever establishing a system that fixes what they pretend to fix, but instead simply maintain thus ensuring system of nameless victims and a roster of valiant attempts and heraldic icons of authentic politicians. Not only are their pensions mandated but thus so are the problems.
4) $15 an hour? A full time slave working 40 hrs per week might be able to accomplish a hobo’s hideout of an apartment if they pay everything for rent. Houses costing over $1 million, which were under $400k less than a decade ago? – thank you government of the rich for the unregulated rich. Rents equaling a portion of housing values: thank you government… Government bitching about a behind-the times-wage hike? You noticed? You didn’t drink the kool-aid.
5) Result: poo.

As to #2:
1) Protesters are important. More so than you. You are a wrench in their machinery if you question their integrity, sources, and sources of funds while they demand openness from everyone else.
2) If you are not wildly supportive, you are perceived as traitorous and thus open for the many varieties of indignities which they mistakenly term free expression…. unless it is done to them to express a sense of outrage that bellowing belligerents constitute anything more than an insult to intelligence, fact gathering, and a mature understanding.
3) Liberals, i.e. politicians, believe protesters have a valid right to protest. Each confuses this with enshrining the lowest common denominator as a measure of valid and balanced civil disobedience, with the politicians licensing the protesters who make the news which outrages people who complain to the politicians who promise change.[see #3 above for results]
4) Result: poo.

Now imagine this broken system replicating itself throughout everyday life and attitudes engendered by the turd chewing media feeding the herd.
Think of it spreading through academia, university campuses, the arts, music, the practitioners of poetry, grocery clerk geniuses, neuro-linguistically challenged moms {the last three categories being practically inseparable}, spastics on fire who insist they deserve Canada Council and Ontario Arts’ grants for interpretative dance.
Along with venal attempts by the same people to guarantee their jobs by granting money and thus legitimacy to publishing houses of craven wankers too cowardly who with subtlety and nuance establish a tradition of greater and suspect quality by their support for original and independent artists (i.e. schizophrenics without a trade except academia) or as they are known in the vernacular of The League For Flatulents: Tools For Schools.

i.e. Young Werther wishes to become a poet. He/She is told ‘see them? that’s how.’ Werther is your ordinary candidate for the ‘Special Arts.’ She/He imitates and achieves the distinction of being recognized by the Canada Council as One Who Writes Poetry Which No One Else Does Unless We Say So. He/She is thus a Poo-et. This is known as the Ren-And-Stimpy effect, aka The Beavis-And-Butthead College Of Non-Existent Truths: other Poo-ets say so.

As to #3:
You can no longer either walk anywhere or drive with impunity at any time of the day or night. There will always be some Paleolithic non-entity objecting to your existence, as if they owned the streets and the times.
1) Consider that you won’t be assaulted by dignified, mature people who have an understanding of the Golden Rule before its perversion into Piss On You. You will be spit on, kicked, punched, stabbed, shot, etc., by the Liberals’ Golems: those wandering sawdust filled Chuckies who ensure a need for law and order, and thus the politicians to fulfill the details.
2) Should you attempt to defend yourself by disabling the attackers (like political cowards and protesters they come in crowds), the cops can charge you. With what? With being at liberty, having self-respect, deciding to keep your integrity as a person, etc. (p.s. Make sure your taxes are paid up)
3) Result: poo.

This wasn’t written by me. It was dictated by a spirit entity known as ……… (words are inadequate to make such a distinction). I plead innocent as the transcriber in this instance of literary poolitics.

Yours,

Self

 

© Dean J. Baker

poems are posted to share, be shared, and entice those who love the work to owning the books from which they are excerpts –  https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

****buy print book, add Ebook for .99****

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Irving Layton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thing could barely stand. Yet taken
from his mother and the barn smells
he still impressed with his pride,
with the promise of sovereignity in the way
his head moved to take us in.
The fierce sunlight tugging the maize from the ground
liked at his shapely flanks.
He was too young for all that pride.
I thought of the deposed Richard II.

“No money in bull calves,” Freeman had said.
The visiting clergyman rubbed the nostrils
now snuffing pathetically at the windless day.
“A pity,” he sighed.
My gaze slipped off his hat toward the empty sky
that circled over the black knot of men,
over us and the calf waiting for the first blow.

Struck,
the bull calf drew in his thin forelegs
as if gathering strength for a mad rush…
tottered…raised his darkening eyes to us,
and I saw we were at the far end
of his frightened look, growing smaller and smaller
till we were only the ponderous mallet
that flicked his bleeding ear
and pushed him over on his side, stiffly,
like a block of wood.

Below the hill’s crest
the river snuffled on the improvised beach.
We dug a deep pit and threw the dead calf into it.
It made a wet sound, a sepulchral gurgle,
as the warm sides bulged and flattened.
Settled, the bull calf lay as if asleep,
one foreleg over the other,
bereft of pride and so beautiful now,
without movement, perfectly still in the cool pit,
I turned away and wept.

©Irving Layton

The economy of language, the spirit of truth; sociology, philosophy: the distillation of experiences reflected, and altered, in one brief poem – that’s the magic of poetry, and a great poet.
Irving Layton is a poet everyone should read, and hear reading his own work.  http://irvinglayton.ca/Recordings/index.html

Irving Layton was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature, twice. He was friend and mentor to Leonard Cohen. Leonard called him “Canada’s greatest poet.”

Looked up to by Allen Ginsberg, Williams Carlos WilliamsMichael Hamburger, and many other fine and great writers for decades.

Disclosure: Irving was my friend for decades. He once said of my very early writing, ” Dean is a combination of thought and torment that has made him write more than a baker’s dozen of fine poems.. he might produce a collection that could astound us all.” And he did not play favourites.

my books http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

alternatively, direct from – https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/links-to-my-books-in-print//

****if you wish to add me on any social media sites –*** Facebook, Twitter,*** etc., – feel free to click the relevant links****

Everywhere I Go – John Newlove

jnewlove

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are people talking about. Everywhere I go they whisper.

They stick their eyes at me, right at the base of the breastbone,
when I’m not looking.

The breastbone seems flat, pointed like a dagger to the top
of my stomach.

O, my stomach, my stomach… when the knife rips you open
it will find coffee and four strips of bacon, pieces of chewed
beard and a handwritten note saying I have left town forever
again.

©John Newlove
– excerpt from his brilliant work, Lies, jnewlovelies1972 and from A Long Continual Argument, The Selected Poems of John Newlove

John was a friend of mine – yet I had only said hello back him when I heard him read this live one time at York University. I’d been searching for the room in which the reading was to be held, and came around a corner to come face-to-face with him, and Joe Rosenblatt.

https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/links-to-my-books-in-print//

The mothership: http://deanjbaker.wordpress.com

©Dean J. Baker

Alden Nowlan – Greatness in Poetry

nowlan_

 

 

 

 

 

Alden Nowlan is one of those poets whom I never got to meet, and always wish I’d been able to do so.

I first saw one of his poems when I was in high school. And as with that poem, his other poems: they always evoke, a ‘yes!,’ about honesty and the truth of things. Always memorable. You’ll find them repeating themselves at the least expected moments.
The poem that first struck me was his ‘Aunt Jane.’

Aunt Jane

Aunt Jane, of whom I dreamed the nights it
thundered,
was dead at ninety, buried at a hundred.
We kept her corpse a decade, hid upstairs,
where it ate porridge, slept and said its prayers.

And every night before I went to bed
they took me in to worship with the dead.
Christ Lord, if I should die before I wake,
I pray thee Lord my body take.

 

©Alden Nowlan

Just to be sitting in your own world and to have 8 lines smack you awake out of the blue, away from your concerns and take you to revelation so quickly, so easily, and with such delight – amazing.

But Alden has many, many poems of the kind that do so – surprising in their humility, strength and understanding. His are the works you could carry in a small book with you and find sustaining every time you looked.
He covers history, patriotism, and more all in a beautiful way.

One other:

Canadian January Night

Ice storm: the hill
a pyramid of black crystal
down which the cars
slide like phosphorescent beetles
while I, walking backwards in obedience
to the wind, am possessed
of the fearful knowledge
my compatriots share
but almost never utter:
this is a country
where a man can die
simply from being
caught outside.

©Alden Nowlan

 

Brilliant work.

And from Alden Nowlan, Selected Poems

A Poem About Miracles

Why don’t records go blank
the instant the singer dies?
Oh, I know there are explanations,
but they don’t convince me.
I’m still surprised
when I hear the dead singing.
As for orchestras,
I expect the instruments
to fall silent one by one
as the musicians succumb
to cancer and heart disease
so that toward the end
I turn on a disc
labelled Götterdämmerung
and all that comes out
is the sound of one sick old man
scraping a shaky bow
across and out-of-tune fiddle.

 

©Alden Nowlan

These poems of Alden’s are a few of the good, and representative of his best. You need the book to even begin to get an awareness of his greatness.
Robert Frost may be more well known, but for me Alden wins the laurels.

© Dean J. Baker

all my books on salehttp://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/links-to-my-books-in-print/