Monday, May 30, 2011

"Fault Lines", an unpublished collection, examines the cracks, tears and jagged edges of the crumbling edifice of our world.

Poems from Fault Lines have appeared in: The Juke Jar, Pink Mouse Publications, The Recusant, Fullstop Literary Magazine, Six Sentences, Keep Going Magazine, Dark Sky Magazine, Lotus Reader Literary Magazine, Blink Literary Magazine, Keepgoing, The Scrambler, Secret Press Anthology, Quay, Over the Edge, Protest Poems, Driftwood Review, Literal Minded, South Jersey Underground, Heavy Bear, New Verse News, The Neglected Ratio, The Star Branch.

Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director and worked as an art dealer when he couldn't earn a living in the theater. He has also been a tennis pro, a ditch digger and a salvage diver. His chapbook 'Remembrance' was published by Origami Condom Press, 'The Conquest of Somalia' was published by Cervena Barva Press, 'The Dance of Hate' was published by Calliope Nerve Media, 'Material Questions' was published by Silkworms Ink, 'Dispossessed' was published by Medulla Press and 'Mutilated Girls' is being published by Heavy Hands Ink. A collection of his poetry 'Days of Destruction' was published by Skive Press. Another collection 'Expectations' was published by Rogue Scholars press. His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway and toured colleges and outdoor performance venues. His poetry has appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He currently lives in New York City.


When fossil fuel is exhausted
and the forests are depleted,
we will hulk by imaginary fires,
prisoners of feeble memories,
until our last indulgences
have been extinguished

You Can't Go Home Again

Be it hours or minutes passing
encased in soaring plane
through the dark night we go
in the unrevealing sky
suspended above the earth
bound for undesired destination
that once smashed childhood illusions,
made more distasteful
by imagination.

Last Chance

Before we have a great fall
from careless and greedy abuse
of our fragile eco-system
that cannot endure
the endless assaults
on the air, water,
the food supply,
there may be a chance
to regenerate the earth,
if we begin

Three Rueful Songs

From the depths of self-revulsion
praise to the love of woman, praise
that we forgot in selfish days
spent in spasms of convulsions.

Women who have loved us in their ways
a moment or longer with bodies, thoughts,
for any reason, so many days,
never getting more than fragments.

Too busy with tomorrows
that we fear we'll never make,
we cannot ease your sorrows
as we watch you slowly break.


Our often songless tongues
are quick to utter despair,
on tortured days that pass
without a moment's ease
from tormenting thoughts
of what we did or did not do,
which we're destined to endure
for our remaining days

Gary Beck

Apology In the mornings when I look Earth is overgrown with exhaustion with a sad insomnia An ocean of plastic undulates a...