The poet Spiel is a tight-wired maverick painting naked word portraits of humankind, thin-layering its hirsute beastiness and, on rare occasion, revealing its humanity in scores of independent press publications. His often iconoclastic poetry of conflict, his profoundly human short stories, his seductive spoken word recordings and his astute bits of visual art appear both online and on the printed page around the world.

To visit the website of the National Steinbeck Centre in the US with details of Steinbeck Festivals, click image; for a selection of links to texts by Steinbeck, click here; for a biography on the Nobel Museum website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

Click image to visit the Salinger.org website; for the Letters to J.D. Salinger website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

Click image for an extract from the book on the Third World Traveler website; to read about the book on the Wikipedia website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

Click image to visit Laurie Anderson's official website; to watch the video of Anderson's 'Oh Superman' on the YouTube website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

Click image for a profile of Klimt on the Wikipedia website; for the Klimt Expo website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

Click image for a profile of Matisse on the Wikipedia website; to visit the website of the Musee Matisse in Nice, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

Ascent Aspirations

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Muse Apprentice Guild

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New Verse News

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Poets Against the War

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St. Vitus Press

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The League of Laboring Poets

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Unlikely Stories

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Zygote in my Coffee

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www.laurahird.com

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SELECTED POETRY

by
The Poet Spiel

THESE ARE PERILOUS TIMES—

—when you don’t know if
you should teach your little ones
to sleep standing up with their backs
to the wall & their running shoes on

or if you should benevolently slip
quietly into their bedrooms & place
a pillow over their tiny faces then press it
downward til the frantic kicking ceases

© Spiel

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THE RECKONING

the warm salt
of your tongue

down
my throat

barely
the recompense

you’d
imagined

a concussion
of yesterdays

blighting
the blessing

you meant
to whip into

this chocolate
& sour cream
confection

now

lie back

&
swallow
this

© Spiel

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THIS SOLDIER TOWN

so this hunk jarhead he
was a stupid staff sergeant or something
like he goes to me he’s been called up
to go back to iraq for the sixth time

so like i say well then i guess you can fuck me
so he goes but his focus of desire is to kill or maim men
so like i say so ok go ahead kill or maim me

so then he goes ok cowboy so what’s yer picnic man
so like i’m outta there i mean you know hauling ass
like i kick my barstool aside i grab my pitcher of brew
& head west but shit

i gotta look back at this dude just one more time
cuz he’s such a fucking babe but he’s already jerking off
& he’s trying to shove a colt .45 up his ass

© Speil

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RETURNEE: SHE WANTS SHE WANTS

he’s hardly got the desert sand out
of his teeth
when she sticks
the baby in his rough hands
like it’s little more than a compact radio
tuned into a station she knows
he can’t hear

this squirming thing
dropped out of her
just five days after
his last deployment
conceived in a drunk between
his second and third trip over there
trying to keep her from yapping
and begging begging him
to commit

like this might keep him
coming
back because she wants
to talk to him she needs she wants
him to talk more hell how
can he talk
when all she does is talk
she talks she talks

and what’s he going to go and do
with a kid
when the fury
in his veins is wed to the spasm
of the last dead
child he tried to blow
his breath into its mouth

what does she think
the jerking
of his teeth his knees his
head is all about

can’t she know if
he talked
she would grab the baby
and get out

© Spiel

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CHILDPLAY

afterwards—

you learn to touch the knob
with your eyes closed
so you may believe it cannot hurt you
twisting it silently
like you are not touching it at all

you learn to release the latch
pressing your small body
against such a heavy door
so delicately
the hinges will not groan
like he makes them groan

you learn to shift your tiny feet
whisperlike
as you believe an angel
might shift its wings
as if your feet never touch the floor
and
while he is in his deepest sleep
you learn to become invisible
like a grass snake
escaping
thru the garden
so you may play
in the dark

you eventually learn
even in sunlight
not to cast a shadow

—but before all this
you had to learn
not to scream

© Spiel

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PERIWINKLE

each time as they put you away you wish
they will let you have something to mark with

it need not be a sharp thing like a pencil or a chisel
for chipping away at these hard days

a crayon will do but best not whole boxes of periwinkle
your color of hope

you know you will be driven to cram them down
between your back teeth and up your nose

the last time you got one regular box of crayons
you swallowed the black and indian red whole

they refused to pump you out
that was the time they shoved
your ass and guts into a box

then your mouth and hands and brains
and especially your big eyes

you wish they would not jam them one more time
into this jar where you always wish you could not see
them seeing at you and hoping so hard
for just one periwinkle

© Spiel