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The Time,The Hour,The Solitariness of the Place

Louis Phillips

Synopsis:

   " I like the absolutely straightforward way you go after a poem, whether you catch one or not.  I like  the fact that you recognize the obligation of the poet to make and attractive object.  These are deceptive poems- people who haven't sweated out this kind of lucidity are apt to think: I could do that.  But in fact it takes a lot of luck and honesty and nerve, all of which you seem to have.  Your poems enjoy good health."

-William Meredith-

"Louis Phillips' poems, so deftly variable in mood and mode, have given this reader permanent pleasure."

-James Merrill-

ISBN 0-942979-87-7, trade paper, $14.95
About the Author: 

Louis Phillips is a member of The Society of American Magicians. Need we say more?

 Excerpt From the Book:

THERE IS A SHAPE OF SUMMER

A MAN COULD HUG

 

In deep shafts of sunlight,

There is a shape of summer a man could hug.

It romps in bulks of rain,

Lays in fold

With multiple landscaped winds.

Clouds, slightly napped,

Deep-trawl the douse.

We turn to watch

A patch of lightening at perfect pitch,

Its double rip-rap of manifestation.

The more weight summer has,

The more room we have.

We must be gripple with time,

But free with its brilliance.

 

 

 

 

IN THE GARDEN OF THE MAGICIAN

 

I myself, under a fog-bow,

Slept here once.

Shawled by what I did not understand,

I saw fear in every step,

But why should I grow old & afraid?

Thick in beryled clusters,

Airy warblers

Pulsed the evening with a surge.

God said, Let there be light,

But did the light know what it was?

We are dreamers.  That is our common ground.

Finally the light

Pointed a finger.

When I awoke, the world was brief & mute.

My spirits quelled

& nothing made a sound

But my heart beating, beating.

 

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