Tag Archives: writer

Evening Poem, October 5, 2014

The Holiness of Tools The shop-room is silent and still smells of sawn wood Dust motes drift in the light beaming through the little window. The plywood table, itself built out of scraps and leftovers from the construction of the … Continue reading

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First Job

I was fourteen that summer and the guy who had the route went to Canada for the whole month of August. He wouldn’t give the job to me; he had his own reasons for that. I did not agree with … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, September 26, 2014

My hour of labor goes faster when mornings are dark The oak splits cleaner in the cold Smoke from the kitchen fire reminds me that breakfast awaits The smell itself is almost food to me   I hurry to keep … Continue reading

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Advice to Aspiring Poets: Creativity as Spirituality

Shelton College Quarterly’s interview of the school’s poet in residence, David Smith, continues below. When transcription is completed, the entirety of the interview will be published – in order – in the Quarterly. Ed.) SCQ: Do you want to leave … Continue reading

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Confidence What would confidence do for you? What if you were sure that your ideas were good ones? That they were not the same, old things That everyone already knows?   What if all that thinking All that reading All … Continue reading

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Why Men Should Read Jane Austen #2

In Austen’s work, the men who get the girl are usually rich or at least under the umbrella of great wealth in one way or another. But the good guys are not greedy or venal. They are not the moneychangers … Continue reading

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Back To School

You cannot get all there is All that is there for you All that you are supposed to get The romance and destiny that life has to offer By filling in forms By finding out just what the teacher wants … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, August 18, 2014

Late Night   Sleepless at one-thirty I rise and open a window for a draught of real air. It is silent outside, I’ve outlasted even the crickets and cicadas. Street lamps, one near and one far make crosses of light … Continue reading

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The Last Rose Of Summer

The people who first lived in this house were aristocrats. Even their women were college educated and this in a day when girls around here got married and that was it. I remember hearing my uncle talk about them. He … Continue reading

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Morning Poem, August 16, 2014

End Of Summer   The mornings are grey now no longer bright and the evening’s cool breeze though welcome warns of unremitting chill. Where is the season of green and gold that I waited so long for? It has passed … Continue reading

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