Before the finneddinosaurs of the icydepths were disappointed bythe steamships of men, they casttheir ballads into the velvet abyss, waiting as mothers do with untamed hearts, big as school buses 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 […]
natural world
Promise of Spring
My snow dirtied mind, squandered with rain and dirt,is ready.These ancient trails call my nameand I am ready.To be alone in a temple of deep space, my cardinal ears are ready.Where there is no religion but God and sun and land and the scent of boiled arrowroot,gathering on my neck and chest,I am ready.I am ready. George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, […]
Encounter on the Moose River
Startled by steps –that New Balancebounce – loud asBoeing jets glidingthrough the metallicclouds of a perfectaloneness, a blueheron hides betweentwo teal wings, foldingand glittering, holdingits eyelids near theflowing stillness of ariver, bare and abundant. George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry […]
The Call
comes when you are waitingfor the shower and disinfection,and when you reach the bottom of the sinkwithout clothes, shoes, or even hair. The call comes when you are baptized with a number. The numbers told everything.For they told the world, in particular, how yourefused to let yourself live without its sorrow.A blessing that comes when you refuse […]
Blue Mountain II
Anointed by the elementsyou are my blueeyed mountain jewel, my empty breeze returning togreet the lipsof a valley asleepin the sky 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, essays and letters have […]
We Need the Soil
because the roots are a gorgeouscatastrophe of gargling raindropsthose empty diamond shaped facescontaining the dreams of elderberriesbecause she fills earth’s basket with the black resinous warmth of grandmother’s handsbreaking the ruby white stalksof rhubarb and celery, reenactingeach contagious morningthe cherished dew of midnight’s tearsas the wild and mischievousrhythms of eternity nears 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 […]
Olympic
Chinook salmon chant on sandstoneintestine-intuition in an agebefore teachers they emanatefrom the roots of the Naupakalike sea spray 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, essays and letters have appeared in USA Today, The Wall […]
Sunset Over Henderson Harbor
She handed me the egg sprayed in blooded paint between the bones, slowly and meticulously, even perilously and the egg, in her fingers (if one could call them that) reminded me of the sun accused and oozing below a fluorescent indigo horizon sandblasted, with chocolate shadows on the cheeks of homes congregated on the rocky […]
Heart Mountain in Wyoming
is confronted by their unfamiliarfaces, mangledlaid bare in the verdant grasslike a falcon devours a field mousebloodon the rust-hued walls of a campfirethrowing sparks in your eyes, andthe numbers: 09650, 05653 Peering deeper intothe pagesuntil they can no longerbe read in English For the Japanese- Americans who lived through internment. George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. […]
Caught Between the Hours
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 nightin the distance, a coyote yelping