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  November 2019
volume 16 number 2
-table of contents-
 
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  Stefanie Bennett
  Jack G. Bowman
  Deborah Edler Brown
  Sir Mark Bruback
  Chella Courington
  Rich Follett
  Alex Hernandez
  Cynthia Linville
  Rick Lupert
  William Mohr
  Larissa Shmailo
  Michael Dwayne Smith
  Martin Willitts, Jr
 
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Deborah Edler Brown November 2019
   

 

bio


photo by james barros

    Deborah Edler Brown is a Los Angeles-based poet, journalist, author, and teacher, with two poetry chapbooks, several writing awards, a non-fiction book, and a variety of journals and anthologies to her name. She was born in Brazil, raised in Pittsburgh, and has family on four continents. She learned to dance before she learned to walk, started writing in grade school, and is entirely in love with the magic and rhythm of words.

   

 

Tools and Trade

For Ron Geitgey

The line of a neck
The curve of a hip
The length of a back
Were his tools and trade.
Stone and bone
Flesh and flint
His hands breathed life
Into marble and granite
Spirit in stone.

The length of a leg,
The twirl of a curl,
The texture of rope on skin
Were his tools and trade.
Light and shadow
Flesh and flash
His eye caught life
With lens and ink
Spirit on paper.

The length of a measure,
The line of a song,
The weight of a note,
The silence, the rest,
His tools and trade.
Tune and tone
Flesh and breath
His lips breathed life
Into brass and air
Spirit in sound.

The length of a life
A curved embrace
The weight of laughter
The light of a gaze
The silence, the listening
His tools, his trade
His gifts, his memory

Stone and bone
Flesh and flash
Tune and tone
Love and laughter,
Laughter, love
Remain in everything
Everyone
His hands
His eyes
His lips
His spirit
His life
Have touched.



copyright 2019 Deborah Edler Brown

   

 

Buddhi

(bood’-e; Sanskrit; noun):
intuitive, direct knowledge

I know my wings when they show up
I feel their heft on my scapula,
on the wingspan between shoulder blades
I feel their stretch and the shadow
they draw across the ground. The
back of my heart, fourth chakra,
grows big blind wings. They appear.
They embody. I remember them
into being and adjust my posture
to their weight.

Icarus made wings to lift a body,
but mine, invisible appendages,
spread out to take me in.
Icarus flew toward the sun and fell.
I fly toward my heart.
Is it any safer?
Is it so less worth the risk?

copyright 2019 Deborah Edler Brown