I learned something about
Myself today, & the way
the world becomes gravity.
The way one has to push off,
divine, cosmic as the way
is clear. We’re near. Just
hold on a little bit longer.
The sun, it is not distant
& the light is here.
“MacGyver” is a poem written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.
Everyday, I read another verse like a diary entry. Even with rhythm, meter, a tried & true cadence, the flirtation is the same, the seduction is a bore, the mystique slips away, turns style into technique, & everyone knows “technique is nothing more than failed style.”
“Stephen Dorf Said it Best” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.
A New Collection of poetry from Michael Aaron Casares
The Vanishing Poet, poems by Michael Aaron Casares, collects poetry published just prior to the print-on-demand boom, between 2006 and 2010, on the independent circuit via chapbooks, now defunct online literary resources, and either international or limited run publications. Poems gathered in this collection were also previously published in rare, out of print chapbooks: Limbo (Virgogray Press, 2006), Ghost Roads (Virgogray Press, 2008), The Terrorist (Virgogray Press, 2009), and Green Tea America (New Polish Beat Press, 2009). The Vanishing Poet also features previously unpublished poetry that was written during this time period, including poems “Ruins,” “Poem for This Night,” and “This Concerning Neutrality” (a poem not published or printed since its previous publication in 2005’s Sad Height, a collection of poetry written under the assumed name, Jacob Gray).
Those familiar with Michael’s work from this era will get a rush of nostalgia as they re-read timeless poetry now available for an innumerable audience. The body of poems lay untouched, with exception to grammatical revision, only few poems saw a face lift, poems that still see relevance to this day like “End the Fed” and “Fourth Estate,” poems that address a social-political concern witnessed by the poet and expressed through his art. As with any mercurial art, though the work does see revision, the poet is careful to keep the meaning, the intonation, and the verve the poem originally presented if not augment. This is found to be the case with the classic pensive and socio-analytical piece, “Sad Height,” a poem that has existed in one form or another, first verbally then written, for nearly two decades. The poem that serves well as a ‘sequel’ to “Sad Height,” the heavy and beleaguered “Dream of Sky,” saw the same, the intention of the poem now at its fullest potential, finite, its best form. The Vanishing Poet finalizes this lost era of writing, one dependent on the resources and kinetic wherewithal of the poet to share and spread the word of one and many, a time before the great cyber and digital rush that has inundated our libraries and mental faculties with a deluge of ideas, memoirs and publications. It was a time of the silent revolution of the small and independent press. It was a part of a last ditch effort to create an organic library of unknown literary masters, and to produce the publications romanticized by the wannabe-beat throwaways of the last millennium; it was a time when one hit the road and instead of daydream, to see people face-to-face and not merely their digital soul.
Title: The Vanishing Poet Author: Michael Aaron Casares Release Date: April 21, 2020 Publisher: Virgogray Press ISBN: 979-8625342827 Pages: 104 pages Price: 15.00 USD
Shall I again that Harp unstring, Which long hath been a useless thing, Unheard in Lady’s bower? Its notes were once full wild and free, When I, to one as fair as thee, Did sing in youth’s bright hours. Like to those raven tresses, gay, Which o’er thy ivory shoulder’s play, Were those which waked my lyre. Eyes like to thine, which beamed as bright As stars, that through the veil of night, Sent forth a brimy fire. I seize the Harp; alas! in vain, I try to wake those notes again, Which it breathed forth of yore. With youth its sound has died away; Old age hath touch’d it with decay; It will be heard no more! Yet, at my touch, that ancient lyre Deigns one parting note respire. Lady, it breathes of heaven, It speaks in praise of holy shrine; Of eyes upturned to Him Divine, By whom are sins forgiven.
It tells the rose, which blooms so gay And courts the Zyphers kiss today, As if t’would never die; Its leaves, which perfume all around, Strew’d on the earth shall soon be found; Unnoticed, there to die. Unwelcomed truth it tells to thee, Lovely in Beauty’s majesty, The roses fate—is thine: Unlike in this—thy soul, so pure, Through endless ages shall endure. Kneel thou at Holy Shrines!
President John Tyler was the tenth president of the United States of America. He was born March 29th, 1790 in Charles City County, Virginia, and served as President from 1841 to 1845 after serving as Vice President to President Harrison who passed of typhoid fever / pneumonia only a month into his tenure. President Tyler is credited with the annexation of The Republic of Texas from Mexico, howeverhis legacy is cloaked in controversy as he is the only United States President buried under the Confederate Flag, and not the flag of the United States of America.