Cassandra


This poem has kept me up
two nights

Not that you’re responsible –
I’ve been waiting too long

And though it’s late,
the lights are on.

But now it’s dark
as dark between the sleepers

Who gather beneath this toadstool
midget lawyers of professional corner advice

In a room I never use:
we can’t seem to be quiet about you, child.

What could I do
about official feasts –

Could I provide my grandfather’s excuse
and his high collar like this

The way wild, sly women
take their place

Beside a man
too weary for waiting.

Now the world
appears among your guests

Suddenly apparent and unwelcome
as an anonymous donor

The company stands around:
you are sick into the night.

©Dean Baker

from The Lost Canadian, Early Poems Selected, e-book 

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Conspiring Distance

SoliloquiesCovernew1


I am the fallen.


The runaway son, born and reborn through transpiring muck.
Crossing; the wide distances, currency. A dissonance
commanding recognition.


This does not go easy on anyone persuaded that they
themselves are listening.
Fanatics.


I am an assassin familiar; wanting to break your memory
of the balance of secrets.
The ransom unpaid by forged documents.


Let alone sheaves of thought stacked against the
moonlight of your staring heart.

©Dean Baker

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Each Happy Being

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Someone broke into my home
last night and took me for granted.
A different kind of robbery, yet
theft nonetheless. You alone now

Would know what is meant, if
not for the happy accident of claiming
possession while being absent,
in the realms of those who love nothing they possess.

(©)Dean Baker

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Celestial Migrations In The Empire 

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from Silence Louder Than A Train… A Nation Of Lunatics

The anhedonics* have it; more pills,
loveless sex, booze and cash, all
forms of coping with the modern world.

Or athletics, politics, religion –
each interchangeable and dependent
upon the credulity of homo sapiens.

Enter the delusion of impending fame,
no less than cosmic significance, and
don’t forget the neighbors’ good opinion.

All this plus an ability to command
weather by temperament, along with
the omnipotent faculty of being bland.

Fueled by money and growing sophistication,
as the level of education sinks:
the picture of a people who cannot think.

©Dean Baker

*Anhedonia: Loss of the capacity to experience pleasure. The inability to gain pleasure from normally pleasurable experiences. Anhedonia is a core clinical feature of depression, schizophrenia, and some other mental illnesses.

https://deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com/2020/09/27/anywhere/

“You can be murdered anywhere, but/ you’ll always die in Congress or in Parliament.”

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 Dean Baker on Amazon

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”If all the reader is looking for in a poetry anthology are the poetic ramblings of someone trying to impress with their command of language or a gently rolling stream of consciousness then this probably isn’t it; but for poignant and thought provoking insight and new ideas, one would be hard pressed to do better than Dean Baker’s ‘Silence Louder Than A Train.”

“”A bold and refreshing approach to modern poetry, one that breaks the rules when necessary and yet conforms when it suites. Highly recommended…”

latest e-books https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBJTJFP Shadow Boxing The Infinite

*****https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YBDFWGB Phantoms Of The Northern Forests*****

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0917TF1K9 Steel Butterflies

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08ZJLWZ13 The New Poetry Hotel

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