Shelter

He wants to change the world

only because that is what art

does.  He wants to stand

in a high place and draw it all

into himself –

all the mass and movement

of it, the music and time

and bleeding, surging life –

and let it sit quietly in a space

within him - near his lungs -

where it can breathe in and out

with him, bearing away the hours

and the small, animal sounds

of pain; and near his heart,

where it can find a new rhythm.

Something less a locomotive

than the sea. 

And when it has rested

for the years it takes a tree

to stand and live and die,

he'll take it out and set it

softly on a table in the sun.

There are follow-up thoughts on this poem over at my blog, Metaphor. 

- Kyle

Shelter by Kyle Kimberlin is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

The Animals

The sun would never rise at all

if not for animals who conjure

morning and call it down

to warm them where they lie,

having slept the night in places

dark and cold. The blue jay

summons light to warm

the concrete bath. We owe

the cat our gratitude

for bringing rays of strong

and dusty light into the house,

especially to the shoulders

of the sofa by the window

where she sleeps.

And if not for horses, cows

and elephants the sun

would never reach the fields.

The lizard owns the light

that finds his rock

and dolphins play to bring it

on the waves. So I thank

dog for all the light I see.

Kyle Kimberlin

11.29.2009

Blessings

Breathe

An opening

A releasing

An acceptance

Of what is

An invitation

Into the core

Of my soul 

As I breathe

I stretch

I embrace my willingness

To invite the goddess

That lives within

To pour out of me 

Like a waterfall

I drop into the center of my being

And like the sun

I rise again

To meet the divine

That connects my very essence

With the stars in the heavens

As they guide each of us

On this journey

We call life.

- Mary Pat Nally

Watermelon

Child, if you care to remember

this world, this life

you dream like a path

of certain distance quickly

walked and centered on a hill,

if you care to open it like

watermelon in summer

or like a prayer box

bearing a constellation of crosses

and sunsets, I hope

you consider your father,

his overtures to death

his music, and like sunlight

through the sprinkler

on a simple greening lawn,

his smile.


Kyle Kimberlin
2009

Submissions

This site was created to offer an opportunity for sharing work and networking, for poets and writers in our area.

We consider our area to be generally Santa Barbara, Ventura, and San Luis Obispo counties, in California.

If you live around here, and you'd like to join us, have your work presented online, and have a chance to network with other writers and poets in the area, we'd love to hear from you.

We're accepting submissions of poetry and short fiction. Right now, there's no formal submission process; that may change if things take off.

Please send an e-mail using one of the links below to start a dialog. We look forward to working with you.

Kyle Kimberlin
Carpinteria

Joseph Gallo
Goleta

Reading Announcement

"Fused Realities"

Two accomplished local poets and writers, Joseph Gallo and J. Kyle Kimberlin, will share the podium, reading from their work in poetry and prose.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

4:00 pm


Presidio Springs Community Center

721 Laguna Street, Santa Barbara

 scroll down for links to media

Joseph Gallo


    August


    Late birds flush the bush, streak
    beaks across a bruised horizon.

    Nightfall knows better than we
    precisely what to do with itself.

    Wild dogs skirl ritual like Pawnee,
    their plain song sere against the sea.

    Fluters hoot the winged oaks and every
    mouse shadow stands its still ground.

    To move now would be to
    do the only human thing.


J. Kyle Kimberlin


    from Pictures of My Forgetting

    You know that life is hiding from us, though
    we caught a glimpse this morning, where
    it fell as light on the carpet by the door.
    It rose and flew like a moth down the long
    hall and disappeared. As a child I saw it rest
    that way. It would lie by the window while
    morning arrived and my grandmother
    was singing in another room. It fluttered
    by and rested a while on my hand. It spread
    its wings and loved me, whispering a psalm.

    The house is gone but not that room, not yet.

Links:

The reading flyer, color web page

The reading flyer, in grayscale for printing

About Gold Coast Writers

We are poets & writers in the Santa Barbara, California, area. We hope to provide a venue for fellow creative writers and poets in the Tri-Counties to share poetry, short fiction, novel excerpts, etc. Our goal in doing so is to foster communication, opening a network of creative people, and to support each other's work.

Click here for information on submissions.

Your hosts are:

Joseph Gallo

Blog: Drachenthrax

J. Kyle Kimberlin

Blog: Metaphor  |  Web site