Poetry by Gaylord Brewer

Gaylord Brewer is the author of fifteen previous books of poetry, fiction, criticism, and cookery, including Country of Ghost (Red Hen, 2015) and The Poet’s Guide to Food, Drink, & Desire (Stephen F. Austin, 2015). His poems have appeared in Best American Poetry and The Bedford Introduction to Literature. His many international residencies include Hawthornden Castle (Scotland) and the Global Arts Village (India), and he has taught in Russia, Kenya, England, and the Czech Republic. Brewer was awarded a Tennessee Arts Commission Fellowship in 2009. He is a native of Louisville, Kentucky, and has been a professor at Middle Tennessee State University since 1993.

“No more of this softness. This kowtowing”

No more of this softness. This kowtowing

to comfort. I’m going native—limestone ledges

for defense, last thicket of woods for refuge.

Suture my own wounds, write verses

with the needle dipped in an ink of blood.

That sort of thing. The Rambo/Rimbaud duality

I’ve waited a pampered lifetime to embrace.

When the young Masai warrior struggled

to build fire without matches, some wag offered

his Bic lighter. You want a season in hell?

The punji pit to sharpen your resolve?

Come on in. Just don’t forget the body bags.

“Twelve shit-streaked eggs, never born,”

Twelve shit-streaked eggs, never born,

snug in their crate. Twelve desirous creatures

of the Zodiac. Twelve notches in the clockface.

Vagary of midnight, uncertainty of noon.

Twelve tortured lines of the forlorn ghazal.

Twelve ribs each side of the human cage,

awaiting the first blow. Twelve walking the moon,

twelve royalty in the deck. Twelfth Night

before Epiphany. Twelfth Station of the Cross

and twelve betrayed apostles. Twelve-gauge broken

beneath the bed. Twelve months from here to

our wilderness. Twelve lies of self-believe.

"We submitted to the sovereignty of our chaos.”

We submitted to the sovereignty of our chaos.

Came to believe in a lesser Power than ourselves.

Gave our lives to the Darkness as we understood It.

Made a prideful and selective moral inventory.

Admitted all to Darkness, ourselves, and no other.

Readied for Darkness to further embolden us.

Entreated It to remove our hesitancy.

Listed those we had harmed and renounced apology.

Made amends to none, except to further injure.

Continued our mastery and confessed to nothing.

As understood, vowed to better comprehend It.

Awakened, carried these principles forever forward.

“I am Aries, my wife Libra, so when the horoscope”

I am Aries, my wife Libra, so when the horoscope

assures she will lure me “as Stendahl,” why not worry?

Referring I assume to Stendahl Syndrome—hallucination,

fainting before great beauty. Will my “fierce confidence,”

“hunger for action” defend? A matter of Fire (me)

versus Air (her)? Our cutie old dog Lucy also Libra,

complicating my situation. Psychologists debate whether

Stendahl Syndrome even exists, though nurses at Florence’s

Santa Maria Nuova Hospital report tourists dizzy

and disoriented after approaching Michelangelo’s David.

In 2018, also in the Uffizi, a man suffered a heart attack

gazing at Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus. He survived.

“No more reprieve,”

No more reprieve,

no miracles.

It has arrived.

My beautiful girl.

Here—your

twelve lousy lines.

Now please

just let us be

in these last days.

My baby’s in pain.

Lucy leaving us.

Lucy dying.

Gaylord Brewer has two books forthcoming in 2026: Goodbye, Baby and Negotiable Gods.