I Don’t Recall His Name

I don’t recall his name
or his face, only that he was good looking,
not in a steely, square-jawed way,
but a softer sort of handsome
that suited his shyness.
What I do remember
is that he was tall and slim
and missing half an arm—
a tractor accident,
his roommate confided.

We never spoke of it,
never said much of anything,
though he was always polite,
grateful, I guess, to have someone
doing the legwork, the facetime.
His family had a farm in the mountains
and that’s where I imagined
he tended his secret garden.
I stopped by his dorm room
a couple times a week
to pick up baggies of marijuana
which I sold on campus in no time at all,
earning shares of my own.
I can still see his long back
as he weighed each bag,
the blue flannel shirt he wore,
one sleeve moving swiftly,
the other hanging useless.

I could not pick him
out of a yearbook,
this boy I never knew.
Yet there he is,
stowed in my past,
where the rest of his life
can’t hurt him.

Hometown Revisited

And there is the hillside
where we used to split a sandwich
and a bottle of wine and make love
under a willow humming with bees.

If time is a moving spotlight,
exalting only this moment,
then there we are still,
on a red-checkered blanket
just out of view.

In This Vanishing Time

With deepest thanks to Robert Eugene Perry, founder of Metaphysical Fox Press, I am announcing the publication of my new poetry chapbook. “In This Vanishing Time” is a collection of 30 poems that explore the human condition and the ways we are shaped by the quiet mysteries that make up our days. Available as a hard copy and an ebook soon, you can find this publication on Amazon.

Please visit the Metaphyical Fox Press on Facebook. Bob Perry is a dream to work with, friendly and professional at once, with a love of literature and an impressive knowledge of the publishing world.

New Poem in Dodging The Rain

Deep thanks to editor Neil Slevin for publishing my poem “Trip Into Town” in the current issue of Dodging The Rain.

Dodging the Rain evolved into a poetry journal, having been founded and edited by MA graduates of NUI Galway (Áine Ni Mhaoileoin, Rebecca Spicer, and Neil Slevin) and Uversity (Dana Rabe) in 2016. It’s an internet platform that showcases poetry to the world but Galway, Ireland is its spiritual home.

https://dodgingtherain.com/

New Anthology On Solace

My deep thanks go to editor Debra Ellis Phelps for accepting my poem “Deliverance” for the new Formidable Woman Solace Anthology. In this beautiful collection are 38 pieces that explore nature, the bonds between us and the need to come together, now perhaps more than ever. Additional thanks go to associate editors Sandi Stromberg and Sventlana Litvinchuk, who read, reviewed, commented, and helped choose the work represented here. 

A Day Like This

I am beyond thrilled to announce the publication of my poetry collection A Day Like This.
A printed edition of A Day Like This is now available through the Kelsay Bookstore or
Amazon. For those who prefer an expedited (and more budget-friendly) version, the ebook
will be ready in just a few days and I will make another announcement then. Ratings and
comments, however brief, are deeply appreciated. https://tinyurl.com/27w32z27

“In the title poem of Jean Ryan’s luminous new collection, her speaker sees swallows
slicing the air, observing, ‘Short dark arrows, they never miss, their flight too swift
for error.’ I can’t think of a more apt description for A Day Like This, in which poem
after poem so vivdly penetrates to the core of lived experience. Ryan’s poems have an
ease of movement and transparency of structure I find most enviable. She has a special
gift for finding what remains fresh and particular inside the ancient stuff of poetry.
This is a gorgeous book, powerful and assured, written by a poet who is elegant, concise,
honest, and warmhearted in her approach. I can’t recommend it enough. A quietly masterful
work.”
Erin Belieu, author of Slant Six, Black Box, Come-Hither Honeycomb, and One Above and One Below.





The Cost

You came to me in a dream,
as the dead sometimes do,
and my joy rushed out to meet you.
I remember how your brown eyes held me
while, finally have the chance,
I said what I needed to say.

I must have looked away,
given you just enough time
to leave me.
I knew that you had died again
and that the cost was fair.

What Thrills Me About The Deep Red South

Surging dolphins.

Ospreys carrying dinner.

Fried shrimp picnics on the banks of a bayou.

Box turtles crossing the yard.

Tree frogs on the window pane.

Corn snakes in the squash.

The size of grasshoppers.

How tall my basil grows.

The end of summer.

And the Make America Green Again 

bumper sticker I saw yesterday 

on a car whose driver I’d pay to meet.