The Cock Poems by Georgio Vesta were written in the mid-Seventies and published in City Lights Magazine. They were performed at Opal Nations’ place in San Francisco, by Wendy Miller, in male drag, appearing as Georgio.”
Download here:
TheCockPoemsbyGeorgioVestaastoldtoSteveBrooks
The Lost Poems of Jesus is an apocryphal discovery of divine imagination. I wrote these poems, originally, as expressions of my own, and they were published under the title Outbursts of Love. Recently, I re-imagined them as if they were poems Jesus might have written when he was in his twenties and an unknown carpenter, falling deeper and deeper into his own awareness of the spirit. There is a kind of expression in these poems that resembles the way Rumi spoke of what he called The Beloved. I am not a practicing Christian, but I don’t believe I am saying anything here that could be called untoward or inappropriate for such a man, as Jesus might have been, before he began his ministry.
Download here:
The poems in The Eternal Ruse were written in 1985, when the freedom from alcohol in my life opened the floodgates. These love poems were the first I had written, and many more followed. The muse of my poems at the time became Joni McConnell, who died in 2002, after a bright and brave life. She was one who brought happiness into the lives of the people around her, because of the light she encouraged to shine within herself and others. She was coming to terms with being an incest survivor, and I was recovering from 22 years of drinking. We were called Holocaust and Apocalypse when we were together, but we never stopped loving each other and loving this life that we were a part of, together.
Download here:
My Mother’s Chair was written in ’03-’04, when I was taking care of my mother, during the last year of her life. She was an imposing figure in my life and the lives of my two brothers. I was her other, as a small boy, and she was my first other. The story explores her effect on my life as an poet, artist and writer.
Download here:
My Mother’s Chair Introduction
I Spilled Coffee on the Buddha is a collection of poems written in ’91. Each poem is accompanied by a drawing related to the story line in the poem.
“I reached for my coffee, and in a broken moment, I spilled coffee on the Buddha. Without innocence and without guilt, my fingers knocked against the lip of the cup. I looked up, horrified, my devil of a heart was laughing, and the Buddha was gone. In his place, in the doorway, was a family of hungry patrons, entering the ordinary cafe.”
Download here:
I Spilled Coffee on the Buddha (text)
This collection of poems, The Dancer in the Heart, culled from the previous thirty years, with paintings, was published by Laura Beausoleil, under her imprint, Philos Press, in 2001.
“There is something remarkable in these poems. I especially liked The Eternal Ruse and Sweetheart.” Robert Bly
Download here:
Art from The Dancer in the Heart:
The Queen of the Rhumba is a collection of poems written in San Francisco in the late 70s.
“Still, she says she’s tired of poetry,
and wants, expects, more for me.
More? More than poetry?”
Download here:
Walking in San Francisco was written on the streets of the city in 1975. I was able, thankfully, while living on unemployment from my job as the donation can collector for St. Anthony’s Dining Room, to walk and ride the streets of the city and record impressions of life in the city I loved. I tried the same thing, in Ellensburg, Washington, in the summer of ’08, and the experience was entirely different but not unrelated. In Ellensburg, I was able to see things at a speed and in a frame of mind, that was slow and frameless, like being a child. I saw and felt things that I hadn’t seen or felt from my car, on my bike, or even walking with a purpose. Walking in such a busy city as San Francisco, I could not stay in that innocent apprehension of the incidental, but something similar did occur, way back then, that was more like a snapshot that one savors upon reflection. In Ellensburg, I was often on the street, alone, in the spirit of the moment, but in the city, the moment is crowded with purpose. This habit continued in Asheville, North Carolina, and in New York City.
The drawings that accompany these poems may become available in the future.
Download here:
Steve Brooks (Abhaya) - Poetry, Prose & Art 