and i swear
in that moment
we were the only two people
in existence

and i’ve been
meaning to say it
for awhile now

cause i see
that you’re getting so…
distant

our conversations
hold no value
and the distance between
is like a chasm

we used to have something
and like a flower,
it bloomed and withered away…
to nothing

and there’s this ache,
this pain…
and i try to ignore it
but i can’t
cause the memories
just won’t fade away

and the longer we go
without talking anymore,
the chasm will grow

and then we will be
so distant
so far away

but we’re already distant,
already so far away

and i don’t know
if it will ever be the same
again

cause when something
cuts you deep,
the pain goes away,
but the scar remains.

as i breathe in the wicked cold air
it caresses my forsaken lungs
and makes me realize how truly mortal we are

its enough to make me sick
the air we breathe
the things we see
and its so hard
to just sit here
and not have the ability
to do anything

and its such a paradox
because its so beautiful

the air rushes through my body
sending a shiver down my spine
and i freeze
just like the bitter snow
on the ground

but i see
as the seasons change
and the wicked cold goes away
splendor and joy replace the bitterness
and pain

and it is in my mind
that the same will happen for the world

when this time of tragedy and darkness
come to pass
we will have pleasure and joy
that will come to last

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.

Apologies, as this is not in fact a poem.  It is, however, a link to a whole bunch of poems.  
Between now and Tuesday, my first poetry collection, "Over Glassy Horizon", is free to download on Kindle.

US link: tinyurl.com/usd-ogh
UK link: tinyurl.com/ukd-ogh  
(Elsewhere in the world, just hop onto Amazon and look up the book.  The offer is worldwide.)

Hope you enjoy this freebie.  All reviews are much appreciated.

~

Human love enhances floating dust particles
Platanas autumn colours invigorate this day
Between half open eyelashes Sun rays refract
The bountiful light in delicate rosette offering.

~

Not even Seagram's whiskey
can tame tonight's cold starlight


and I'm ok with that.

Reminds me of your blue eyes
that summer night we met.

Right now, there is a narwhal
bathed in the same moonlight
that drifts like a gypsy
into my room.

I am sure Bukowski had nights like this:
not enough liqueur,
too many thoughts.

I just pray we keep the moon in the sky,
away from our mouths, our teeth.