I have finally found an artist who has produced RESULTS! After all the time of trying to find someone for THE REDEMPTION PROJECT and all the false starts, you have no idea what a relief it is for me to say that!
So what is my plan? First, I need to save up to pay for the artist’s fee. Second, I need to get a handle on what dimensions are needed for the Kindle and Nook. (The former is through Amazon, the latter is through Barnes and Noble’s NOOK Press platform.) Third, I will need to get the book properly formatted; this includes not only the poems themselves but also a copyright page, cover, and table of contents. (Also, I will have to read through the poems and tighten up any weak spots.) Fourth, get it out there and get promoting!
So basically, as always, it is a game of “hurry up and wait.” Still, things are getting closer! And for your edification, I will post one of the poems here right now. As the time of publication gets closer, I will do this again, posting somewhere between three to five poems to whet your appetite.
For now, one will do.
“Orchard of Changes”
If you faltered
without a trace,
gods would no longer recognize
your sleeping wishes.
The trees here are made of bronze.
My eyes become a million flies.
Earth and sun somehow merge,
thus manufacturing 200 dreams.
Love can be disregarded.
Words can break magic spells.
I have made a one-inch thick barrier
that blocks out every intrusion.
** alter, alter **
Now my style has changed.
A different sun collapses each day.
Foreign tongues, swallow me! Aching fingers, break me!
I don’t deserve to know
all the reasons
why, what for, and how.
My barricades still exist.
I hate all of you out there,
burning yourselves…scorching your souls
just to obtain
a few hours’ worth of pleasure.
Is this your falling sky?
Because I know it isn’t mine.
If I never had a reason to be angry before, I do now.
My scars have been earned this time.
You can open me up and see.
I travel the mountains
and devour the clouds.
My hands smash the wooden men.
They threatened me first!
Otherwise I would have shown them mercy.
My skin aches to go back home.
I want to hear your hypnotic voice
talking me to sleep.
“Isn’t it beautiful how these diamonds
fade in the horizon?” she said.
Having been tongue-tied for centuries,
I was unable to answer.
So we sprinkled our chalk dust bones
over almost everything.
We missed the grass
and the shadows of oak trees.
Elders could not scold us
unless they wanted to burn their tongues.
Of all the things I did
during my final days,
this is all I can remember.