Bryan Newbury: Three Poems

While Waiting on the Ferry | Survived a Winter |
Muezzin in Absentia

While Waiting on the Ferry

Each time I find myself
Near this mosque,
I cannot help thinking of Ertha Kitt
Singing Uskudar
In a cafe in Texas.

The beauty of media
Is that it juxtaposes the sacred
And the profane
Without realizing it.

And the beauty of poverty is
Washing one's feet in the cold of December
And God understanding.

Survived a Winter

Survived a Winter on nothing save Aroostook potatoes.
Watched the plumes of smoke from houses languishing at the Appalachian
Trailhead ascend into slivers of silver sky, now supplanted by gray.
Slipped in what could've been grass at one time, maybe Summer.
Bled into the snow five feet from the salted sidewalk mystified
While it dripped into my hand. Somehow the skins contribute extra iron.
Over Christmas, the neighbors gave us sweets and wondered if
Our families thought about us out in the Flatlands. "Of course," we'd reply.
A night of chocolate served as a respite; but not quite enough to deprive us
The dignity of a potato fast.
After awhile, the senses forget the green of the pines
The track lighting in the ABC Store
The blue in the Wal Mart logo or
The red in the radio dial.
Just more gray from the chimneys
To the sky to the ground
To the Van Gogh and Daumier paintings
And full sacks of those emaciated Eastern tubers.
Observed breath. Breath floated through the kitchen while we boiled
Aroostook potatoes. Turned gray as well. Cursed the landlord in short bursts
Stood helpless while our qi floated into the Maine Air. The Maine Air
Could tell we weren't from around there and feigned interest.
Spent summer on petrol and peaches,
Vidalia onions soaked in sweet butter
Appreciating the resumption of senses
And the rainbows resting on shareshack roofs.

Muezzin in Absentia

Istanbul sleeps in sky
at 4 a.m.

Buildings are lighter than clouds,
who remain twice as strong as them.
Atlas upon Atlas, tricks of perception.

The Horizon slants slightly past the earthquake bridge
though daylight reduces this sensation.

And daylight brings on
  other harsh realities
    like loudspeakers
      fixed on minarets.

Poet's Biography:

Bryan Newbury was born 42 miles from the geographic center of the United States. He did not receive a B.A. from the University of Nebraska, nor an M.F.A. from Bates College in Maine. Afterwards, he didn't complete his term of service in the United States Navy. He has traveled and lived in Spain, Malta, Turkey, France, West Texas, rural Georgia, New Mexico, The Congo and Mexico where he didn't learn any of the languages. He is not currently the editor of New Letters Magazine. He does not reside in New York.