Review / “Swaying to the Music: Coming of age love stories”

“Swaying to the Music” recently received this review and I thought it was very interesting! By skywise on August 1, 2015   Steven Harz’s poetry collection “Swaying to the Music” reminds me a bit of an old coffee shop I used to frequent. There was always this older gentleman, I don’t think I ever learned…

Poetry / “Search”

Search I used your glove box Gulf station street map to find the busiest barroom back alley my hands and knees broken bottle bleeding and ear to cracked pavement eyes closed to concentrate on your recent rattle and fading hum determined to find the proper direction to begin my search. — copyright 2014 Steven Harz…

Poetry / “Holy water shot glass”

Holy water shot glass   Intoxicating and excruciating, a baggy Bob Marley T-shirt hanging off your shoulder when we first met I felt I should be forced to walk a sidewalk straight line and touch an extended finger to my nose. On weekend barstools we alternated playing the game and arguing the rules with no…

Poetry / “Wait”

Wait   I am willing to wait for your reappearance what choice do I have but to be patient and prepare for you to walk back Rather than lying under dark clouds I will string holiday lights from backyard trees in the shapes of Orion and dippers while I wait for you to bring clear…

Poetry / “Chronicle”

Chronicle I am not glad that you are gone (have left) but I am thankful that while you were here I chronicled our love on my flesh but my art is not that of (clichéd) dragons and skulls or daggers (though this may be next) but of hearts and crosses and birds and Bible verses…

Poetry / “Numbers”

Numbers Two of us and six beers later huddled in the back seat of a ’78 Plymouth parked in the dark behind the Eighth Avenue Church shirt pulled off and skirt hiked mid-thigh exposing goose-pimpled inner thighs discussing that morning’s 2nd period Physics class while making out to Jackson 5 static from B104 FM traveling…

Poetry / “Diner placemat love note”

I have become a front porch Bell jar wino looking for yesterday But all I want is to be a back alley junkie freebasing glimpses of tomorrow And on each day of your absence I’ve received a morphine drip of your perceived value While fearing the dark and squinting to find your fading light At…