Unearthly View

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Missing you, I
step off the edge
of routine; constrained, yet

held by boundaries,
the skeleton of this costume,
this envelope of flesh

where I cannot sleep or rest,
almost a dream awake
before the sudden drop

to the flatlands, the crash
soft, epidermal; sloughing off
another season

that may last one more
unmeasured length
against the strength

of daily storms
I contain in unearthly view: amid
too mortal awareness, and remains

©Dean Baker

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Circle Of Destiny

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I thought I would escape death,
if I loved you well and long enough.

I would answer to his pride; conceal myself,
within the monuments of fleshy deceit.

I saw our kitten curl into question
marks that defined my helplessness.

How could you love me when I betrayed
by my selfishness your plan for immortality?

I had always tried to be good, being afraid:
You said I only wished to avoid living.

I knew I had failed to provide illusion.
I stepped outside the circle of applause,
I joined the cowards in the audience.

They were transformed into painted, wooden faces.
I wouldn’t mind much consenting to die.

I refuse the list of trivialities; the stakes
always high for those who would philosophize.

I will not accept slavery as my model
for spiritual and material transcendence.

Religion is anathema to God made manifest.

Now that we have fouled the bed of marriage, let’s not
pamper our vulnerabilities with relationships.

©Dean Baker

 for Ebook link The Mythologies Of Love   

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latest e-books $5.99, 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

Your Beauty

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Your beauty has nothing to do with you.
Just because I admire what’s
Sweet and good, does not mean it is true.

Your truth may be right and straight, but
This belongs to what is old, not new.
Your beauty has nothing to do with you.

Your wonder is all you may own, your
Joy at what inspires and works alone.
Your truth has never been a ghost.

Your beauty and your truth are one at last.
I can see them in the mirror now:
In the reflection, not the shadow that you cast.

©Dean Baker

click photo for Ebook link Silence Louder Than A Train ebook   $5.99

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paperback: – Silence Louder Than A Train 

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  • “Highly recommended…”

    “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.’”

    “Poetry and prose poems of a passionate & intense originality which transcends the boundaries of the everyday. Words that speak, sing, and witness to convey us beyond the poems themselves to allow fresh discovery with each reading”

    “… 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.”

    latest e-books $5.99, 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

    Just Want


    Some cream in my coffee whenever
    I might wake from
    sleep of which I cannot think

    No fucked-up minds inquiring
    before death and sickness fail
    to step aside for the new beginning

    If you notice that I have
    nothing to say to you, you know
    it’s because you never listen

    But interrupt in your only constancy
    these things evident
    of whatever truth you contend against

    ©Dean Baker

    -from Shadow Boxing The Infinite   – on sale

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    On Many Mornings

    There were mornings
    I said I will see it through
    I cannot give in
    that being an idea you had

    I took refuge in books and women
    My consolation led me nowhere
    I was utterly lost
    I am back baking bread in the kitchen

    When you come to this
    As no doubt you will
    Remember everything you wanted
    Consider how to kill

    ©Dean Baker

    The Mythologies Of Love

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    “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.” – Irving Layton, (“Canada’s greatest poet”- Leonard Cohen), nominated twice for the Nobel Prize for Literature.

    Blood Upon The Moon


    1
    Poetry is far behind me now:
    I have lost the gift of music,
    the memory-hidden silences.

    That place where once I lived, in
    glory, is occupied: by
    cruel forces of the invasion.

    The armies of the ignorant
    twitch, and kneel:
    they leave their blood upon the moon.

    2

    So alright you know more than me,
    I concede to your competitive
    vanities and the telescope of ambition

    Where attitude substitutes for
    actual accomplishment by
    the surrogates of the soul and sad deeds

    In the committees of abandonment,
    authorities I do not sanction
    governing what occurs between me and thee.

    3

    As if money wasn’t every measure,
    for what cannot be missed
    in the absences of real treasure

    No more a garden nor oasis,
    no safe heart or places traded
    for what is lost within the traces

    That do not feel like grace or the swift
    awareness beyond the judges awaiting
    verdicts with which they already agree again.

    ©Dean Baker

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    NEW BOOKS: Shadow Boxing The Infinite, Phantoms Of The Northern Forests, The New Poetry Hotel

     

    I Used To Loiter Endlessly


    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

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