Poetry and pictures, always a good mix. Wyly Parse is a poet and graphics artist, and the other kind of artist who paints real pictures. He lives somewhere near Asheville, North Carolina “where he remains a little confused.”
This first volume of Parse’s output (we assume there are others to come) is wildly illustrated with color prints of everything possible: naturistic imagery, mountains with faces, mandalas left over from acid trips, some forests, some eyes, and a hand handing you a daffodil. It’s rich with its own hidden meanings as are the poems, mostly short and mostly (possibly unfashionably) rhyming.
Here’s a slice, called “Fun on the Sun”:
Me, I take it easyAs you can feel, there’s almost meaning there and enough not-meaning to make the poetry thing meaningful.
Under Sun’s gazing skies.
Earth in its orbit of wonder,
Me and my false sense of eyes.
Tree lose their leaves
In the morning air.
When evening comes
There’s no-one there.
I come from morning,
I watch the night.
My footsteps move
In troubled dusky light.
The trees see only
The clouds are lonely.
So am I.
For those who like their poetry sans rhyme, put this in your dream pipe and smoke it:
“The patter-patter of distant starlight is dreaming I’m asleep.”
Like notes left on the table for an absent guest, Parse’s poems and pictures flutter and occasionally take flight. Like filaments of old light bulbs from a more glowing time, his work reminds us of something pleasant and occasionally amusing.
The book is published by Lulu, a web-based POD that’s all the buzz for aspiring-to-be-published writers. Mr Parse is pleased with their treatment of his creation, and that says a lot since it’s a production requiring both excellent color repros and a pretty look to the page.
If Parse is to be believed (and why not?), “We sleep because we’re built that way. That’s what dreams all seem to say.”
Buy the book. Sweet dreams.