Poets Wear Prada is a poetry publishing house with excellent poets and affordable books with beautiful covers. Have you had your poetry today?--Meredith Sue Willis, Books for Readers * * * Stylistically, these beautifully designed and produced chapbooks bear their own distinctive signature.--Linda Lerner, SMALL PRESS REVIEW

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Brant Lyon | Your Infidel Eyes





Brant Lyon recites "Hash House Blues" in NYC at Bowery Poetry Club on New Year's Day 2006






YOUR INFIDEL EYES
by Brant Lyon
soft cover/saddle stitch/12 pp.
$6.25 (+ $1.50 S&H)



Photo Credit: D. Cloherty





Not to be confused with the championship bicycle racer from Canada with the same name, BRANT LYON has for more than a decade tirelessly pedaled his words and music throughout New York City’s poetry circuit and beyond. He has performed at Carnegie Hall, Bowery Poetry Club, The Cornelia Street Café, Galapagos Art Space, and elsewhere in New York City, in the Catskills, as well
as in his native New Jersey. Brant currently curates “Hydrogen Jukebox,” a ‘jazzoetry’ series where the recombinant DNA of word, rhythm, and tone metamorphoses in improvisatory chrysalises and re-emerges as musical logo-imagoes. His poetry has most recently appeared in print and online in Rattle, Big City Lit, Lullwater Review, The Long Islander, Medicinal Purposes, Rogue Scholars Collective and one cheesy anthology best forgotten. Once a clinical social worker and an administrator of juvenile justice, for now, he leaves it to others to work out their problems, as he frequently bounds out the door for adventure in far-flung places. For the past eight years he has tracked the digital revolution in Egypt, where he and his partner have just opened an internet café in a neighborhood of greater Cairo so obscure only a homing pigeon could find. He otherwise resides in Brooklyn, New York.






THE PECKING ORDER ON SHARIA AS-SOUQ, ASWAN

At dusk, when the market simmers down,
then cools--a pot brought back to boil by noon
next day--what won't be thrown into that pot
is tossed onto a heap in the middle of Sharia as-Souq
that nightly grows then disappears:

Bone and gristle from the butcher shop,
soggy mint leaves from the corner café,
a crate of tomatoes trampled by a donkey cart,
rotten lemons not even the careless
or desperate would buy...

Donkeys lower their muzzles into the pile
and are led away; sheep and goats, a few stray
dogs and cats, pick over the trash and take their fill;
next ducks, chickens, and geese furiously peck.

Finally, the mound is set on fire.
Flames feed, in turn, licking air.


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