I Used To Loiter Endlessly

-excerpt from In Riparian Fields, 102 pages, $12.99, ebook $5.99->In Riparian Fields Ebook
https://www.amazon.com/Riparian-Fields-Dean-J-Baker/dp/1514660652

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1091177414

‘Poetry that is classic and timeless.’

Vital, intense and uncompromising – singular in clarity, artistry, and authenticity.’

Work which illuminates as it informs – a reviving sense of discovery and perspective.’

Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

I haven’t felt good forever
I’m not going to tell you about it
outside the realms of poetry
and the women
plus the rhythms of music, there
isn’t actually anyone who cares
to hear the sad dystopian tale
of an artistic loneliness since you
decided we share the same problem
but separately

not all of this could be known
not all of this could be known together
not any of this would be shown
by the solitary sharing
the fact that somewhere along
the way
a passenger fell off the train
beside the river I have not visited since
when I used to loiter endlessly
on the lookout for the arrival of beauty

© Dean Baker

-excerpt from In Riparian Fields, 102 pages, $12.99, ebook $5.99->In Riparian Fields Ebook

  • from a review:”Dean’s words ring true, even if they bite you. Might as well face the music he…

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Magazine Minds, Confectionary Lives and Cold Souls in Café Society

Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

These are the days of holy rage; the nights, of broken thunder. The numberless
specific insanities that pull your mind right under. Total potentiality.
You know, don’t you? Who can’t gain weight, ain’t got no appetite yet bloats enthrall.
Vanishing invisibly, I can’t sleep at night and before evening’s day I am all awake.

Where drunks stumble and lurch; slur my daylight mind in ancient doorways, forever with us. Of course, it’s everyone except you. Fear being another tightrope.
So I shall disappear. The jewels of truth light my way through empty towns, streets.
There are no deals. I left everything behind that would not touch my sunken eyes. In this I am blind, the wounded thief.

Who would be the orphan and limping stepchild, ascribed with insulting logic? Hadn’t I assumed the debt that was once always my badge and refuge? I did not want these signs of genius…

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Failure To Communicate

Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

I did not know
Until you walked away
That what carries you
Goes behind, a traitor

I did not introduce myself
I did not propose
An illicit meeting
Nor that you and I marry

I sat in the soft
Southern breeze later
And mourned my loss
Your perfect ass

I could pinch myself

©Dean Baker

-excerpt from THE MYTHOLOGIES OF LOVE, 86 pages, print $11.99, ebook $4.99! lasts longer than beer..

Save poetry, own the book…a few readers’s reviews:

Silence Louder Than A Train – Highly recommended…’‘
“… one would be hard pressed to do better…’‘
“…savagely introspective..”

Dean’s books will someday be required reading…”

**Dark Earth–  ‘Rabelais and Hieronymus Bosch look out of dark chinks in these poems…’

‘The most unique set of poems I have ever read’

In Riparian Fields

For my other books, look here https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

TREAT…

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PETTY GODS OF APPARENT DECLINE

My new book is available for pre-order here – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PZ4ZXGT

PETTY GODS OF APPARENT DECLINE

  • ..the sum  +++ of all my other books – sine qua non ne plus ultra poema

120 pages

‘Poetry that is classic and timeless.’

‘Vital, intense and uncompromising – singular in clarity, artistry, and authenticity.’

‘Work which illuminates as it informs – a reviving sense of discovery and perspective.’

Dark Earth – ‘Rabelais and Hieronymus Bosch look out of dark chinks in these poems…’‘The most unique set of poems I have ever read…’

Silence Louder Than A Train – ‘Highly recommended…’‘… one would be hard pressed to do better…’‘…savagely introspective..’

‘Dean’s books will someday be required reading…’

©Dean Baker

https://ohcanaduh.wordpress.com/2019/03/22/new-editions/

https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM/

Poets & Poetry

Part One

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It would help to know what poetry isn’t before any declaration is made regarding exactly what poetry is, has been, and may become.

Poetry is not attitude, nor advertisement. It is not the approximation of a recognizably magical moment captured in one frieze of a combination of attitude, a mythical fancy, nor an established attitude limning on the page what is apparently or realistically poetical.
The first is a pose, dangerous in that it represents itself as poetry whereas the real poetry is of a whole, not an imitation, derived from abused elements that have established themselves as tools of the trade of the art of poetry.
That of course is where the attitude has greatly substituted for the art.

Real poetry will result from the poet gorging on the classics; assume the essence of such as its own, and through a passionate breath of love for the rhythm and the intellect in such art allow for the true voice of the poet to be discoverable. The resultant poetry may arise as much as a surprise to the poet as to the reader, otherwise there’d always be the possibility of intellect overwhelming the creation of art.

Poetry is of course an art. Something often dismissed by the fact that at this time and for a long while now it has been assumed as a cloaked attitude by the same ‘writers’ who once stuck to the creation of what were referred to as ‘nurse novels.’
The problem with stating that poetry is an art is that you will confront the stuck-up moralizing fragments of dusty academics who are as far from the reality of poetry as a coroner is from life. They will confront you with lies about poets who lived ordinary lives, were accountants, etc., without also noting that these people were the exceptions.

There will even be ‘poets’ who have somehow – through connections of those wanting to build a sense of personal power – been granted status academically, or in a literary life, unassociated with a realistic assessment of their work.
These will be the neighborhood articulates about whom you will hear other ordinaries commenting that likely they’re merely educated idiots.

This alone can result in a ‘beat poet’ moment where you want to tear off the suit and tie and run away to who knows what, catching the rhythmic notion of Mexico City Blues like Kerouac. And many have done so.
However that place of the Mexico City Blues, celebrated by such music poets as Bob Dylan, and Allen Ginsberg, is not a destination (see ‘Ithaca’ by C.P. Cavafy), but a resultant melding of place and metaphor, from and to which the artist later known as Kerouac to the public arrived without a notion of such. His journey was honest.

The only way an attitude of taking the same journey – almost – can be honest is if the poet or writer is well aware of doing such a thing to contrive a similar sense of discovery, combined with the fact that if they will lose themselves in it what they will discover about it will be themselves, with far different results of the same ‘blues’ since time and its changes will have made it so.
Central to such a journey would be such a poet’s own passion and talent. Some will arise out of genuine being, some out of a mixture of authenticity, and artificiality or attitude.
Only the resultant work will prove what is true poetry, or not.

This is where the mythos of the poet, which can serve as a necessary impulse for the real poet, must be separated from the contemporary poetic attitude.

However, let’s not forget that poetry is ultimately about poetry, in a sense. First, it is about the life of the poet. It may be a rich life as Shelley briefly enjoyed, or a poor life as many minor and major poets have had since. Rich and poor financially, anyway. Poetry is untouched by such things, though the ease or impediment of producing poetry is heavily influenced.

Poetry is not what a contemporary and well known poet has said about producing poetry as a result of poetry. That may be the case for him in his portraitures, and stance as a poet. But his stating it to be so without making the effort of distinguishing how and why he says so is simply a lazy cynicism. And a self-justification for an awareness of a lack of greatness, and thus a self-fulfilling prophecy.
He writes as though poetry entered into existence and went out with both the beginning and end of his own work.

Poetry is an informed and learned enjoyment, an enlightenment, and a passion as discoverably brought into being by observation as it is a celebration of the most ordinary, the most different, and the forever unique where all boundaries of discipline and knowledge result in that art of poetry. I might label all of Jackson Pollock’s works as a statement of Poetry, to illustrate this.

This illustrates where poetry began, and how it continues.
With that open mouth of darkness closing in, that vision of beauty if nature, people, and a greater aspect of civilization.
And how it is learned – absorbed – through the passionate embrace of great poets’ works: more than willingly, since these are the real forbears and ancestors of the poet.

Poetry is freedom to create and recreate worlds, and the world.

It is the responsibility of the poet. Thus, the next question would be: what is the poet.

©Dean Baker

-excerpt from https://www.amazon.com/Poetry-How-Gets-That-Way/dp/1508737525

https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile

Poetry & How It Gets That Way – Poetry has been an essential art in history and is in danger of being trivialized into extinction.
Several seminal events in recent literary history are detailed in illustrating how poetry is not merely an adjunct to history and culture but can elucidate, influence and in changing perspective alter those same events and deeds.
Find out more in this treatise more sociologically descriptive than academically oriented.

http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

 

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The Bull Calf by Irving Layton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thing could barely stand. Yet taken
from his mother and the barn smells
he still impressed with his pride,
with the promise of sovereignity in the way
his head moved to take us in.
The fierce sunlight tugging the maize from the ground
liked at his shapely flanks.
He was too young for all that pride.
I thought of the deposed Richard II.

“No money in bull calves,” Freeman had said.
The visiting clergyman rubbed the nostrils
now snuffing pathetically at the windless day.
“A pity,” he sighed.
My gaze slipped off his hat toward the empty sky
that circled over the black knot of men,
over us and the calf waiting for the first blow.

Struck,
the bull calf drew in his thin forelegs
as if gathering strength for a mad rush…
tottered…raised his darkening eyes to us,
and I saw we were at the far end
of his frightened look, growing smaller and smaller
till we were only the ponderous mallet
that flicked his bleeding ear
and pushed him over on his side, stiffly,
like a block of wood.

Below the hill’s crest
the river snuffled on the improvised beach.
We dug a deep pit and threw the dead calf into it.
It made a wet sound, a sepulchral gurgle,
as the warm sides bulged and flattened.
Settled, the bull calf lay as if asleep,
one foreleg over the other,
bereft of pride and so beautiful now,
without movement, perfectly still in the cool pit,
I turned away and wept.

©Irving Layton

The economy of language, the spirit of truth; sociology, philosophy: the distillation of experiences reflected, and altered, in one brief poem – that’s the magic of poetry, and a great poet.
Irving Layton is a poet everyone should read.

Irving Layton was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature, twice. He was friend and mentor to Leonard Cohen. Looked up to by Allen Ginsberg, Williams Carlos Williams, Margaret Atwood, and many other fine and great writers for decades.

Disclosure: Irving was my friend for decades. He once said of my early writing, ” Dean is a combination of thought and torment that has made him write more than a baker’s dozen of fine poems.. he might produce a collection that could astound us all.” 

my books http://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

alternatively, direct from – https://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/links-to-my-books-in-print//

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