Queen St. East

cover photo of Toronto, Ontario

The jaw slacks, with the weight
of the body’s loss,
to an inexorable acknowledgement

The brain is unfettered
in its jug; spilling over
with the nostalgia of alcohol

Flat on their backs, near Moss
Park, curled fetus-like, the
inhabitants whirl in a static frenzy of

Enfeeblement, any amusement here
sublingual: the posthumous twitching
of cynics en masse

©Dean Baker

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

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

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

Widows

Their heads are bent
By another death:
the unlovely child
you always knew too much about.
They are carrying themselves.

They are carrying themselves
With taunts of Spring.
Do you not see how
they drive:
to meet the grinning, opened mouth.

©Dean Baker

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

https://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

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

 

 

A Jealous God

The muse still torments me
every now and then.

I wish her the best; but she
seems almost helpless,
unless the haunting’s going on.

She thinks a psychiatrist
may do the trick: forgetting
she had a hand in the mess.

I guess I’m supposed to do
exactly what’s expected:
serving as a ghost confessor.

After all, she’s lonely
until she finds another life.

Or somebody else to deal with;
who may,
but may not be a stranger.

©Dean Baker

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

https://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

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

Accepting The Challenge

It’s not meant to be an old trick. I
found myself, finding
you.
No formula for words to please.

You cannot heal the deaf god.
Consult the lists
of dialog,
obituary notices your spirit keeps.

I came to it broken,
a full stop:
never knowing there already was
no avenue of retreat.

©Dean Baker

BOOK SALE – https://deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com/2021/10/31/books-2-99-e-books-paperbacks-7-99-8-99/

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

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

https://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

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com