Have you looked upat the stars lately? Have you watched the Moon bowor gulp light from her holy grail? Have you howled at her?The sky mother. Oozing through the gate, a vaporous,sweet olive black night in the distance, a coyote yelping
George Cassidy Payne
Messiahs
Between colors and worlds,as old as fish dying on the hot sands,because the gods are jealous and concernedabout us, we are stuck to a diamond-shaped rockof slate, just like any savior who cameby ship and went.
Is This How I Wanted it to Go?
A forest away from the pulsationsof thinking. A forest still as raindrops falling off red pine needles.My ancestors. In this forest. I am not alive, in this forest.I know as a ghost knows, a lovely, fragile, shale hunger returning broken from my hands hung between the womb andwilderness, as it is born, a great disk-shapedsystem of gas, an accident of the […]
The Heart is a Constellation
Dying almost assoon as it is bornthe heart danceswith newborn starsa constellation of affairs and a great accidentof the cosmos, ifyou can find it had a purpose to mess up.
When Daybreak Knows
I am trying to honor her.Her terms. Her words.Her voice. Her mountains.Her wildflowers. Her falsehoods and her fiberglass pauses on the screen. I ama child with her, opening painted windows that werenever closed to begin with.
Littered With Salvation
A flask-shaped bald head olive-black eyes. Short chestnutbrown eyebrows. Oshkosh B’goshoveralls and an ultraviolet purplesleeved shirt. Like small dollspatched with the materials of a day’s harvestsinking into the earthinto a wormhole of foliage, laughing at nothingbut the act of knowing that sometimes it’s commonand good to laugh at nothing. We played unconcealed. Outside. Submerged in winding branches and […]
Home
a small childyet to master the written word knows beautywhen they seetheir mother walk through the door,home from work. A wordless setof hieroglyphics without their brain peeringthrough. George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, […]
Your Words Are the Path
It doesn’t matter thatno one cares. Keep writing. Do it.It doesn’t matter. Thevoice that tells you howit’s crap.The voice thatsays it doesn’t matter. The one that tells youthat good is notgood enough. That one. The one that doesn’twant you to create anythingbecause it is trying to savewhat it knows. The voicethat tells you that it knowsbut doesn’t. Keep writing. […]
Genesis Reborn
I know as a ghost knows a lovely, fragile, shale hunger returning broken from my hands hung between the womb andwilderness as it is born, a great disk-shapedaccident of the cosmos. See all his poems on Tea House here.
Neither Slave Nor Master
I am not in charge,nor am I a slave held bythe same infinity where these scales do not matter;where the art of poetry aloneis raised like a prayer flag. George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. […]