T.Byron K. 2013

Project End of Days

Many times my older poems require some adjustments during the editing process.
The poems often go through chrysalis stages. Project End of Days has been a way to organize,
draft, revise and finally archive a collection of poetry that began in 1987 and is still ongoing.
7/21/2020
T.Byron K. 2013

The Beginning of The End

Silvery streaming
rainlight shines
so like Heaven's
last remnant of tears
or bright as Longfellow's
snowdrops when the year
was [still] &  pale with cold/
Lost days,
& an old Love gone
like a forgotten poem
now & to forever
left unspoken.

6/16/2020
T.Byron K. 2013

Keep Going

If you are trying to make art or write poetry (or even a novel) keep writing or painting or drawing, you're doing something of value in this broken world. Keep going, the miracle of your unique "heartsongs" of words and visions may be used as a direct channel of Heaven.
5/6/2020
T.Byron K. 2013

"Time is a straight plantation"

To Bishop Sigrist-
I think Proust's book is more non-linear in many respects, and defies the awkward tradition of the novel, which has the art form kind of stuck in a kind of quick sand for generations now. Part of the appeal of the novel is the incessant need for literalism and Proust's work is more poetic or suggestive I believe. I remember Jim Morrison said "Time is a straight plantation" and this line always st
ruck me somehow as well. Remembrance is a book of memories and this is something we all have in common really in our own minds and hearts, we are carrying it with us all the time actually. I started to write a poetry version of this idea a few years back titled Vandalia, it is a poetic memoir and is about half finished now. I don't think it was something I could have begun at age 25 or 40, it took some years behind it to undertake.
4/22/2020
T.Byron K. 2013

The Beginning of The End

Amid
those unspoken
departures
the broken
blooms are
snow pale
as death.

What angelic
shout of
children still
lifts beyond
the back yard?/
She sweeps
blossoms like
Winter ice from
her front porch
& a cold
rain readies
her new
bed of flowers.

There may
still be (last)
poems
in a lonely
room at
the end
of the world.

3/23/2020