No Embers Remain

Nothing holds.
No matter how much
You water it, the soul slips
Away. It lingers in the concert hall
As the end arrives it leaves
Collectively with all others
Wandering to the exits, disappearing

Into the night. A crew will clean up.
The silent edifice holds the nothing
That still remains. What we
Claim to know continues to enfold
Us in its cloak. It warms
The heart in transition like
The fireplace fire you unplug
In the coming of the light.

Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

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