Dave Brinks

LA REATA


New Orleans

Dave Brinks is a poet who suffers well under the conclusion that poetry saves lives
Particularly his own. He loves the smell of gasoline and clean hair
His favorite color is dirty pigeon. Living in New Orleans all of his life, 35yrs
Brinks' thinks it's the last inhabitable city in U.S.

summer and all


I was a bathing suit in the american idiom, sitting after a table, eating my favourite flavour, baked banana, honey & whip cream. I wanted to make something special. this is south louisiana. a 4hr exit from texas. 4 lazy blocks from big muddy hulking ships out to sea. I came to live here as a child. it, too, was late july. now shiny ABC’s have disappeared into my head like the rings of a tree.

dream hands


if you have a piece of silver rocket hose
either by means of a map
or with a needle in it
you can walk right out of the scene
into the warm blue velvet
part of your life
light up a cigarette
peel yourself into an orange
and symphony an entire
language of snow

the view from St. Peter street


delusions don’t happen by themselves. they need people. consider the sidewalk. the immense solitude of the cracks. its geometry breathes like my belief in religion. like tapping a needle to the skin or a scab where a fix can find a more permanent vein. sometimes it’s no more than an accident. sometimes it’s both. right now I’m neither. but I’m getting tired of telling myself that there’s some kind of reverse magic to it all.

giant molecules


everything happens out a window
a fierce febrile intuition beneath the blue
but a lot goes on forever
like the olives on our plate
(the mauve ones)
and the appetites don’t
say anything but “sssssss”

Legal Notice       La Reata 2009 - Poetry - Short Fictions - Painting - Photography