Literary Arts | Read Local Sunday

READ LOCAL SUNDAY: Danielle Beazer Dubrasky

Dani Photo 2READ LOCAL SUNDAY is your glimpse into the working minds and hearts of Utah’s literary writers. Each month, 15 Bytes offers works-in-progress and / or recently published work by some of the state’s most celebrated and promising writers of fiction, poetry, literary non-fiction and memoir.

Today, 15 Bytes features Cedar City-based poet Danielle Beazer Dubrasky who here provides three works, including the opening poem from her  chapbook, Ruin and Light, forthcoming in May from Anabiosis Press.

Sunday Blog Read continues to accrue a distinguished group of established and emerging Utah writers for your review and enjoyment.

So curl up with your favorite cup of joe and enjoy the work of Danielle Dubrasky!

 

 

 

From “The Sand Man”

I
This is the story of two children who wander into the desert

and see a burning bush—creosote—the oldest plant on earth.
The smell of it after rain is of railroad tracks crossing desolation,
passing all the lives scattered at the root of the chaparral.
The brother and sister have followed him
the man who coaxed them toward a mirage
with the promise they would see God.

In the desert there are circles of seeds, tracks of snakeskin,
diadems of sunflowers crushed into a map.

He does not give them manna but hops and hashish.
He takes them into the desert that sparkles at first of crushed jewels.
The sand shifts, the diamonds cut their feet.

He takes them into the desert and says hush.
He is not waiting for them to grow up
but to soften and fatten by feeding them sweet things—

but no, that story belongs to two other children.

 

(originally appeared in Sugar House Review)

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Great Basin

I am no nearer to what the sea tries to loosen wedged in rock—
a sorrow slipped between a trapped metal cap
and glass shattered along another coast.
The truth is I don’t live near the ocean
but in a desert town I refuse to see
built on an alluvial fan of gypsum soil shifting

beneath cracked plaster and skewed door frames;
beneath miles of silver sage, rabbit brush, dry lakes
and wind trembling through pinyon rooted along the highway.
I leave my own trace, planting wisteria and honeysuckle,
Southern foreigners thirsting for water.

I blink and the town is gone, drowned in a sea of fossils.
What that s

David Pace is a writer and literary editor of 15 Bytes. Author of the novel “Dream House on Golan Drive,” (Signature Books), his creative work has also appeared in Quarterly West, ellipsis…literature and art, Alligator Juniper, Sunstone, Dialogue and reprinted/posted in Phone Fiction. His byline has also appeared in the Christian Science Monitor, American Theatre, Huffington Post and elsewhere. www.davidgpace.com