Literary Revelations is thrilled to bring you the exceptional poetry of Gary Gauthier. We hope you enjoy this feature.
Gary Gautier has taught university writing and literature and given numerous radio interviews. His poetry book, Schematics and Assemblies of the Cosmic Heart, was shortlisted for the Faulkner-Wisdom Poetry Prize, and his novels have earned a #1 Amazon bestseller rank in two categories. His latest novel, Alice, was selected for the Innovative Fiction Book Club, and a screen adaptation of his novel, Mr. Robert’s Bones, made the second round at the Austin Film Festival.
Gary’s forthcoming book of poems, The Day We Met in Earthly Time, like his previous book, builds a landscape that is rich in emotion and intimacy, yet resonant with the archetypal, the eternal, the mythical. The poems in the new book rely more heavily on the local imagery of particular places, but the mood and manner of sculpting the language will be familiar to readers of Gary’s previous poetry.
Gary has hitchhiked through 17 countries and 35 US states, and currently lives in the pueblos mágicos of Mexico. You can see all of his books at http://www.garygautier.weebly.com.
I still walk to that lake, the surface now still,
absence of geometry, ache of tranquility,
a voice but a whisper
soothing, sad, a silver
thorn in the side of love.
What love creates, need destroys.
We put flowers on the table
at the change of the season.
Then the rains came. We watched
through the kitchen window.
You turned out the lamp.
“I love you more than I need you,” I said.
“Now I know what that means.”
But need, the ache, the silver thorn,
will have its bloody day.
Time passes. Seasons change.
When I walk to the lake I stir the surface,
the glitter of sun, a dangerous swell,
my hand beginning to move
into place a geometry
Dragons of the earth flashing
red and green and gold
once moved to the galaxies
above cry out, they rage
against fate and thrash
their tails in a glitter
of fiery stars.
Sirens of the ocean weaving
seaspawn and seawrack
removed to the same
night sky, they rage
against time and weep
for their watery home
in teardrop stars.
And we, what have we to do
with dragons, with sirens, we
who see only the stars, only
beauty, we who’ve lost the exquisite
pain of those elemental beings?
We have nothing to do but
await the next wound, await
being ripped aloft from the earth,
soothed for now in soft forgetfulness,
in the bare beauty of the night sky,
where sirens silently weep the more
because they cannot
weep for us.