Gary Beaumier
In his later years Gary Beaumier has become something of a beachcomber and has self diagnosed with “compulsive walking disorder.” On a number of occasions he has cobbled together wooden sailboats. He is a finalist and semi finalist for the Luminaire Award for several of his poems and was recently nominated for Best of the Net Award for his poem “Rio Grande.” He has been poems published in Flumes Winter 2017, Third Wednesday, Chaleur Magazine, The Piltdown Review, The Esthetic Apostle, The Internet Void, an upcoming issue of Raw Arts Review and a recording in Lit_Tapes as well as Swimming With Elephants, The Gyara Journal, Beautiful Cadaver, Remembered Arts Journal and High Shelf Press. He taught poetry in a women’s prison.
Wordplay with Rock
There was the summer
I harvested rocks
from the beach.
Sand pumiced my feet
and the water painfully cold.
There was the day
my boy came home
after all those years
only to take a hit
and unravel everything
and all I could do was watch.
…and at season’s end
I drank coffee
under unleafing trees
weighted yet spectral
with stars piercing down.
I wondered how it works
with rock.
Does it crackle
when you flame the butane
into the bowl?
Does the euphoria
slam into you
exactly eight seconds
after you suck it into your lungs?
After eight years
did you get back
that righteous high
or are you chasing it still?
And will you keep chasing it
until you are under a rock?
Did you think
I didn’t goddamn care?
Sheila-Na-Gig online 