Peter Ganick

new poem 1.20

a ghost in a canoe.
where softened as public meteor.
agon for the close inductee.
non-sense is naive & expunged.
there is no.
details mode scrupulous renditions’ forming recollections.
its decay is willing a fissure, transit from one toggle otherwise othered.
a mode for abandonment none too often so majestic, minimally put.
so put the clock under a wall formed of clay.
one politic goes to skulk while this goes.
c'est la vie…

new poem 2.1

thinkingly a proboscis.
they run & fly.
why signal.
the yankees umbrella greets with raspberries.
test them, geodesic dome.
the crux details material geeks.
standard equipment.
opinioned rind.
otherwise irritating seeks the other.

new poem 2.8

a modicum of familiarity.
soma behooves definition—
crawls that she blanks leitmotif quelled for self-defense.
the collider with a coiled palindrome.
so to seek elementary particles.
we dream ocean.
we disrobe to swim.
confiding in speaking to a mirage over there.
the intention reflects on precedents milling about-face.
a nearby detail is no longer iffy or prosaic..

new poem 3.11

knight to rook’s pawn, or some such other.
blue and green is the room-surround.
on the outside or from the inside?
dim knowledge dawns slowly so the heart muscle is blushing,
the lines change roaming changes,
there is no wisdom to writing poetry.
the previous line is not true.
even if it conveys opinion.
it is not mine.

new poem 3.12

children use the word “why” frequently.
an adult has to consider if it is an imposition, aiming to alienate.
last night i slept three and a half hours.
who's the agent and the one receiving?
mostly knowable there is no mystery,
the big one big one is a longing for personism.

new poem 3.19

seeing irony glow frankly opens meddlesomeness.
a concern for bulletins mitigaate the context applied.
elemental, dear wallaby.
so green the forest immerses clothes horses where they may graze.
‘sheep may safely…’, wrote j s bach.
a lozenge waits ornately for the mouth that feeds it.
hola!—i was a mirror wherever i wished to be,
rain, torrential rain—
where did you grow to in the underbrush?
so, who are you to talk & write like this—
even having a computer speak your lines?

so else i walk away natural & sheepish—
wounded before a cloud can catch fire.

Peter Ganick was publisher of Potes & Poets Press and, with Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, publisher of blue lion books. His work encompasses many volumes and is widely published. After a short hiatus from writing, his style was found changed. The work in this issue of Otoliths is representative of this shift. He is also a prolific artist who works abstractly, mostly in drawings.

He is a long-time resident of West Hartford CT with his wife, the artist Carol Ganick.
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