By Marcus D. Niski
The bronze houses without
windows or doors
become obelisks.
The butterfly hunter
with his hat
strode across the foyer
at a moment which anything
seemed possible…
[MN] n.d. November 1997
In Cocteau’s apartment
By Marcus D. Niski
In Cocteau’s apartment
There exists
An antique clock
A pile of notebooks
A picture of Picasso
A leopard skin drape
A clutch of pencils and ink wells
A pile of books letters and mementos
A faded blackboard
A bust of an unknown composer
Memorials to Colette
A strange engraving.
Above all, there is hope.
[MN] 29 December 1999
Roaming Around
By Marcus D. Niski
As a child
I would roam
around
Roaming around consisted of freedom
An essence of pleasure
I roamed around the streets
the creeks and gullies
the back blocks
through unfinished houses
through suburbia
through time and space
through mind and body
through disinhibition
through freedom of expression
through permission
to be free
[MN] 8 January 2019
Gas Station
By Marcus D. Niski
A slice of dying America
Immortalized in poems
by Bishop
paintings by Hopper
And the memories of
Millions of Americans
The allure of gas stations
Grease pits
Oil stands
Bowsers
Grease monkeys
Driveways
Tools and tool draws
Parts and carburetors
The dreams of youth
And the machinery of movement
Gone the Golden Fleece
Of my childhood
ESSO CALTEX MOBIL
BP SHELL LIBERTY
Dead and dying
Like the generations
Basking in the dreams of
nevermore
[MN] 9 January 2019
The Bard Of Hollywood – Charles Bukowski
The Bard of Hollywood
By Marcus D. Niski
He was a tough motherfucker
at least he’d like to have
us think that he was.
Everyday he’d get up
And start drinking and writing
Writing and drinking.
Yet under that
beer barrel chest
lay the heart of a lion,
a heart of gold
He gave us his best stuff
Fresh from the suburbs, the factories
the pool halls, the wastelands, the racetracks, the detritus
of urban life.
He never gave up
and never
gave in until
he gave his last
which as good as his best
He never understood
the human condition
because he was always striving.
‘He didn’t think much of them’
The Humans that is.
One of the most acute observers,
He laid his soul bare
And he told of the blood, the puss
the stink, the shit, the beauty, the horror
and the mundanity of life.
He lived life
To its fullest
despite his own queer
deviations.
Bukowski
was a one-shot deal
An original even if it’s a clique
To suggest it.
His writing lives on
In eternity
To grace us with its realness,
Its sorrows
And its beauty.
[MN] 15 January 2020
Dedicated to Charles Bukowski (1920–1994) – one of my great literary heroes.
Mark Strand — The Vale of Soul-Making
And I, tiny being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss.
I wheeled with the stars.
My heart broke loose with the wind
— Mark Strand, from “Pablo Neruda and his passions,” The New Yorker (September 8, 2003)
Mark Strand — The Vale of Soul-Making
Here Stood Mayakovsky — Travel Between The Pages
The Brooklyn Bridge literally loomed large in my Brooklyn family’s history for a century, so I was intrigued when I stumbled upon this impressive limited edition volume. The accordion-fold book Brooklyn Bridge with a poem by the 20th century Russian poet Vladimir Mayakovsky and original woodcuts by Canadian printer and book designer Glenn Goluska . The award-winning […]
Here Stood Mayakovsky — Travel Between The Pages
Fernando Pessoa – Parfois, en certains jours de lumière… — BEAUTY WILL SAVE THE WORLD
Parfois, en certains jours de lumière parfaite et exacte,où les choses ont toute la réalité dont elles portent le pouvoir,je me demande à moi-même tout doucementpourquoi j’ai moi aussi la faiblesse d’attribueraux choses de la beauté. De la beauté, une fleur par hasard en aurait-elle ?Un fruit, aurait-il par hasard de la beauté ?Non : […]
Fernando Pessoa – Parfois, en certains jours de lumière… — BEAUTY WILL SAVE THE WORLD
Criss Jami — The Vale of Soul-Making
When a poet digs himself into a hole, he doesn’t climb out. He digs deeper, enjoys the scenery, and comes out the other side enlightened.
― Criss Jami, Venus in Arms. (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform January 23, 2012)
Criss Jami — The Vale of Soul-Making
E.E. Cummings — The Vale of Soul-Making
if you like my poems let them walk in the evening, a little behind you then people will say “Along this road i saw a princess pass on her way to meet her lover (it was toward nightfall) with tall and ignorant servants.
— E.E. Cummings, “if you like my poems let them,” Etcetera: The Unpublished Poems of E.E. Cummings. […]
E.E. Cummings — The Vale of Soul-Making
Naked Cities Journal 
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