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The Collected Works of Wes Patterson: Past the Galaxies of Stars (Poetry, Band 1) - Softcover

Patterson, Wes

 
9781583481097: The Collected Works of Wes Patterson: Past the Galaxies of Stars (Poetry, Band 1)

Inhaltsangabe

Wes Patterson's poetry has been published frequently in anthologies and poetry journals throughout the USA and England, and in translation in Japan, India, and Russia. His poetry deals with life, death, and love and the ageless philosophical questions of existence that have interested philosophers since ancient times.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Wes Patterson was born at St. Elizabeths Hospital in Manhattan New York City on March 5, 1938, the son of Henry Merritt and Margarita Ndoci. Patterson attended Johns Hopkins University on full academic scholarship and graduated with Highest Honors. He completed his post-graduate work on fellowship at the University of Florida, majoring in Psychology and Creative Writing. Wes Patterson was personally responsible for the current 'ferret craze' as he first 'discovered' this unusual animal in 1968. He immediately began to breed, popularize and sell them by the thousands to pet shops through out the U.S.A. from his animal and reptile farm in Melrose (pop. 532), Florida. There are now more than ten million pet ferrets in the U.S.A. He also popularized the Malamute-Wolf Cross.

For the rest of his life Patterson was also involved in the study of creativity, the human mind and its potential, accessing the sub-conscious through hypnosis and the accompanying phenomena of regression and reincarnation and further avant-garde explorations.

Wes Patterson's work has been published frequently in anthologies and poetry journals throughout the U.S.A. and England, and in translation in Japan, India and Russia. His poetry deals with life, death and love and the ageless philosophical questions of existence that have interested philosophers since ancient times.

Patterson's son, Wes Jr., by his first wife Jean, lives in the far West. In 1992, he met and married Irina Trefilieva, a Russian doctor of medicine. Due to her translations, much of his poetry has appeared in major Russian literary magazines and received excellent literary reviews.

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You

Knowing radiance
That melting gems
Do not possess

Finding jewels
In water fountains
What can you know

You see the color
But I just hear
The water flow

The Metronome

Every hour
And five minutes
The hands bisect
The timeless face

I watch closely
I keep track
The sound of ticking
Is part of me

I let the clock
Tick time away
Like a phantom
In the day

When it is night
In my sleep
I count seconds
From the deep

Sisters

I could only say
I was this and
This is what I was
And I had to know
What this was

It was my sister
Told me
Living is dying

Told me
To forget my prayers
To forget myself
To forget my name

Told me
All was gone
That came to be
And all to come
Was gone like me

The Game

After
We pass
The sub-station
For the fourth time
It is obvious
That
This walking
From room to room
Without
The proper credentials
Is a
Meaningless
Game

I try
To push
Out of line
But
The corridors
Constrict
Around me

I bend forward
And hold
My marching feet
My marching feet
With my hands

The line stops

Which I figure
Doesn't matter
Since
They
Are all dead

But
They stomp me
Anyway
And
Urge me on
Chanting
Nursery
Rhymes

Renascence

Not my number
On local
And county
And state
And federal
Cards
But my number
Myself
Freely carved
At the 14th St. stop (of the B.M.T.)
In the uptown men's room
4th john to the left
Above the toilet paper
One cold morning

Then
Like an awkward bird
I flapped my arms
And ran, ran faster
Past gaping old women
Clutching their bags
And twisting round
Their foolish heads
To gape again
To miss nothing
Of value
So I stopped
And walked serenely
Through this dungeon
Of screeching wheels
And endless johns

From my wallet
Took all my cards
And dropped them
One by one
Into the hat
Of the one legged
Blind beggar
Sprawled on the steps
And fled
Before his howls
Of execration

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