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I recently had the great privilege of editing Mike Essig's latest poetry collection, THE BIOLOGY OF STRANGENESS, and I'm honoured to have been entrusted with such fantastic material. Putting together a book like this is every poetry geek's dream.

It's a beautifully textured assortment of poems, earthy yet lyrical, narrated by a voice that's uniquely grained with experience. There are pieces that will make you smile, think, wince; there are pieces that hit you in the gut out of nowhere; there are pieces that welcome you into them like old, worn-in shoes; there are pieces you will remember late some night when you're by yourself, and remembering them will make you feel less alone.

This collection of poetry makes you look at the banal and the everyday afresh; it finds magic and mystery in the mundane, and even Hawaiian shirts are poem-worthy when Mike Essig's writing about them.

The Kindle version is already available through Amazon.

A paperback edition is due out next month, and I can't wait to have a copy of this book on my shelf as well as on my e-reader.

Mike's previous poetry books, Never Forgotten and Huck Finn Is Dead are also available through Amazon and are excellent.  

From his author profile on B Star Kitty Press:

"Mike Essig is a veteran of Vietnam and a retired English teacher. He’s also been recruited by the muse as a poet, like he hadn’t already been through enough."

Sample poems, links to sales pages and more info can be found at the B Star Kitty Press website.  www(dot)bstarkittypress(dot)com.

Please do support this very talented indie author.
 Mar 2016 Derron Schronce
bones
Easy flow the waters
of the river passing by,

though we straighten them with walls
and narrow them in time,

and lace them up with bridges
to bind them where they lay,

still the waters, like a lifetime,
slip their bonds and pass away..
I'm a master of disguises
Skilful at charades
So many different characters
Through my life I've had to play
But my true self is amazing
Though concealed in vulnerability  
So please go deeper than the mask
To unveil authentic beauty

(C) Pixievic
We all wear masks ..... sometimes we just need people to see through them
Lush green forest, full of mystery yet full of magic and grace. I yearn to stalk and embrace you. To your tallest, most ancient and wise trees in which touch the iridescent clouds and orange sky as twilight falls upon, to the dew filled soil below glittering like a night sky.

Light breezes dance and sing through the forest air, leaves singing and dancing along with the breeze. Sudden silence fills the atmosphere, I hear the wind die as its song falls into a soft hum. Aromas of the ancient forest trickle up my nostrils leaving me in a state of natural relaxation. As I venture in further, I hear the birds sing their ancient songs, I see deer leap with fleeting grace in the air as if they had wings. Squirrels squiring up the trees into hiding as I cross their path.

I come to the end of the forest, as I walk away I hear the saddened, lonesome goodbyes of the forest. I look back in woe, but I know that I shall return to this lush green forest, full of mystery yet full of magic and grace.
Years have flown by and time has taken its toll. Many have been the sorrows and lessons learned. Now when things seem bleak, fruit from seed sewn has begun to be harvested. For on the journey of trial, many a soul has been rescued and many a wanderer has been shown the right path. The stranger has been comforted and wounds have been healed. Though there have been set backs and people have fallen by the wayside, those who have been found and helped have made the trip worth while. In the grand scheme of all things, we are but a small part of a play. So we must endure the journey to reach our destination, what ever that may one day be.
There was a caterpillar that had no friends
She feared she would be alone in the end
She had all, but given in

She stayed in a trees
And hid behind the leaves
Until she ate them, or there was a breeze

She had become so very fat
All the other insects made fun and spat
Out cruel words, she no longer wanted life and that was that

But before she could eat the poison leaf, along flew a hunny bee
"Hunny child you just dont see
That one day your gonna fly like me"

She looked at him in bewilderment
Surly his brain was a little bent
Wings for her would have to be heaven sent

But she decided to hold on a little longer
Just to prove he couldn't be wronger
That bee's words she would often ponder

The other insects still showed their hate
The more they said the more she ate
She knew they was right she'd never find a mate

So she made a cocoon, to hide herself within
So she no longer heard the words that could condemn
What awaited her would be hard to comprehend

The bee seen the cocoon, and sat and waited patiently
He wanted to be the very first to see
At what a beautiful creature she had came to be

When she emerged the sun hurt her eyes
Many a day had gone by
The sun seemed way to bright in the sky

But then she got a look at her wings, they where gray
"Why didn't God paint them, why are they this way"
At the bee in disgust she shouted, "You should of let me die that day"

"But my lovely one, you are now a creature of the night
And will fly by the enchanting moonlight
And see many many wonderful sights"

"Besides my hunny chid they're wings
You can now fly to the heavens and sing
Your point of view will now change on many things"

"God painted your wings gray
So in the bright of day
Against the tree bark you can lay
And safely sleep the day away"

"God only picks the strongest
To prowl in the moon lit darkness
He only picks the bravest
That at night can help with the loneliness"

The Moth bent her head in repentance
She couldn't even finish her sentence
For she realised in that instance
The bee was talking about her transcendence
Opening the book of morning to the first blue page , chapter
one tells of Warblers and Finches , misty hillsides and scenic vistas ..
Thumbing through blessings , every paragraph a loving , written testament to the wonders of today ...
Copyright February 22 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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