What the Gargoyle Sees

My new poetry collection What the Gargoyle Sees has just been published by Kelsay Books. It’s a wide-ranging sci-fi collection of my poems ranging from science fiction and fantasy to myth, horror, and fairy tale retellings. Here’s a short review from the back cover:

What the Gargoyle Sees pairs creative settings with a realist’s eye—the book is full of moving poems that put Twaronite’s contemporary sensibility in settings rooted in myth, history, and invention. From the interstellar to the metaphysical, the poems take their occasions imaginatively—but rarely remain in the imagination alone. Instead, Twaronite melds the fabular with the particulars of lived experience. What the gargoyle truly sees, in the end, is the world we’ve made. It is what I like most about these poems: the way they start in the ether but find meaning in the heart.  

Tyler J. Meier, Executive Director, University of Arizona Poetry Center

Find out more about the book here: https://kelsaybooks.com/products/what-the-gargoyle-sees?_pos=1&_sid=201fac46e&_ss=r

A Little Planet of My Own

I Just finished rereading Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s classic tale The Little Prince. It is a book I have returned to many times, and I always find something new there. To those who think of this as merely a story for children, think again. It is a story that works on so many levels it defies classification. If you have somehow made it into adulthood without ever reading it, I urge you to find a copy before it is too late and you lose all connection to your childhood and turn into a fossil.

Here’s a poem I wrote after my recent visit with the prince:

My planet is a trifle bigger than
the one the Little Prince lives on.
Instead of just three, it has
a dozen volcanoes which erupt
in iridescent salute every time I
visit and never need cleaning.
Mine has a waterfall that falls
straight up into the sky where
the stars are always laughing.
There are baobab trees by
the score with roots going
deep as they please without
breaking up the place
and not a single sheep
to menace my one silly rose
visible only with the heart
who speaks to me when I’m sad.
And one yellow snake
when I want to go home.

First published in the literary journal Star*Line Fall 2019

Alimentary Proof

 

 

 

 

Snoop and Snort pounded all day
on a rusty Remington typewriter
missing the letter “e,”
writing stories for Metro Daily News
about mythical creatures called humans—
smart as dragons, some say—
but no one believed them.
They needed proof.

So off they set to find a human,
a hard thing to do, since none
existed in all the dragon world.
As they passed through an alleyway,
all at once the air around them
began to shimmer and squiggle,
like something struggling to be.
Then out popped a tiny creature,
wearing striped shirt and baseball cap,
chasing a ball.
Snoop and Snort stared in wonder
at the human-shaped creature,
which did not seem fierce at all
and not half as big
as the beings they wrote about.

The creature froze, as Snoop and Snort
sniffed it from head to foot.
Grinning with sharp teeth,
they licked their chops
as their bellies growled.
It was nearly lunchtime.
The creature screamed and ran,
but not nearly fast enough
to outrun a fiery breath.

Snoop and Snort searched in vain
for more delicious creatures.
Tired and still hungry, they returned to the office
where they pounded all day
on a rusty Remington typewriter
missing the letter “e,”
writing stories for Metro Dragon News
about mythical creatures called humans.

First published in Lowestoft Chronicle Spring 2018   http://lowestoftchronicle.com/issues/issue33/genetwaronite/

Letter from the Grave

Just had a new poem published in the latest Starline, the official journal of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association.

Just like him to wait till now—
always the procrastinator
promising to write but
never getting around to it.
I can barely read the words,
scrawled like drunken
worms across the page.
And look at that stationery,
all crumpled and rotted
like he didn’t give a damn.
But what really ticks me off
is the postage due.