Black Sabbatical: Poems by Brett Eugene Ralph (c2009)
I tasted yesterday's rain,
the carcasses of moths,
broken glances, tears,
the smoke of not-so-distant fires -
all the desperate gestures
we collect and call the seasons.
Brett Eugene Ralph was raised Southern working class, playing football under the bright lights and getting into trouble while fronting punk and hardcore bands. Later on he ventured off to pratice Tibetan Buddhism, before returning home to Kentucky. A couple of weeks ago, I went down to Chicago and saw Ralph give a reading from his debut poetry anthology, Black Sabbatical. With a booming voice and commanding presence, he burned his poems into my head. Afterwards, sitting down and reading these same poems to myself, the still hot embers re-ignited and charred their way in even further.
The way a train sounds
The way a dog barks at night
The way phones ring over & over when you
Almost want to answer
When it's not your phone
But you can hear it
This is a man that has seen things and, with his poetry, knows how to focus a powerful lens on their essence. Check catalog for availability.
- submitted by Tom @ MPL Central
(note: excerpts taken from the poems Firm Against the Pattern & Flowering Judas.)