Poetry and prose from George Cassidy Payne
George Cassidy Payne
Atammayata
Birth and death, love and hate, the burnt scent of cloves on fingers and campfire on jeans, nothing is attached for long. In the butter soft leather light of purple fog, a royal procession of swans announce themselves.Not made of that, the lake is restless for now
River Teach Me
Inspired by a sacred Ute prayer River teach me changeas falling leaves decompose in the formless current River teach me hopeas the source and end, both come from mountains River teach me how to get lostas two young lovers walk along your bank not needing to be found River teach me how to savor the […]
Looking Out From Stony Island
Carve out my tongueI will taste your wind Slice off my earsI will hear your waves Gouge out my eyesI will see your red sun setting Tear off my fingertips I will touch your stones For I do not need the presence of your solemn grandeur as it perishes along a silent lakeshore In the ashes of our ancestors […]
Born Again
Work out everyday. No excuses. Do it. Morning or evening. Doesn’t matter. Just do it. Stop making excuses. Write. At least an hour a day. Just do it. Stop being sorry for yourself. Just write. Meditate. Every day. Find the time. Breathing or whatever. Just meditate. Stop telling yourself you don’t have time. That’s a […]
Breckenridge
Unimpressed with me or my camera, the raven, clove black with a touch of tar, draws easily from the pine needle-covered stream. So easily, the way honeysuckle curls over the broken necks of cedar, or how, in slumbering isolation, a reddish shade of Colorado awakens as a poet ready to desert his own mind.
Late Summer
The spell is over. The orgy is over. We get what we want, then time runs out. We who were born by phallus and wand pass on. Like summer flowers thriving in the untended edges of the yard.
Strength
To be believed, they say you must be bruised or ruptured, vaporized, turned to particles in the smoke, how poison ivy causes the skin to blister. Have they forgotten so quickly? Before laws and judges, there was Motherhood, lionesses fighting on the open plains.
The Wall (For Roger Waters)
I loved you, the way jewels are left unclaimed on the ocean floor. I loved you forevermore, and I knew all along that such a place does not exist. I loved you, the way a pike devours a frog when it is not watching, you know how fast they can get out of the way. […]
In Essence
Poetry does not bring me peace. Or if it does,it is the peace of a baby sleeping, only to be woken by a nightmare. Poetry does not bring me relaxation. Or if it does,it is the relaxation of a perch eating a frog underneath a rolling country brook. Poetry does not bring me reconciliation. Or […]