Poetry by
Christian Avery Bryant
| The Occult Bookseller's
Daughter Before each dawn the Bookseller burns a vine taken from a berry bush that grows in Central Park though he claims its home is Egypt One by one the dreamers come brass doorbell ringing their swollen heads full of empty fantasies that continue to harvest hope Topics of books strange and known only to demons, wraiths and mages Glass jars full of fleshy refuse some cleverly labeled, some not Leaves and stems packaged as if mysterious in purpose From beneath the dusty counter an even greater dreamer lurks Young Rosa the Occult Bookseller's daughter watching, wondering, dreaming Though tomorrow morning Central Park vine will not burn Brass doorbell will not ring Bookseller will not awaken And tears shall well in the eyes of a young Bronx girl who once thought in her Father magic grew where only grew a cancer |
| Flight Skills There is comfort in turbulence Constance smiles 4,395 conversations with men with women living vicariously through passengers 4,395 flights developed skills lost once feet touch ground and the bitter reality of a life mundane sets in until again turbulence |
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Copyright 2006 Christian Avery Bryant
All Rights Reserved
| I started writing horror fiction
in 2001 and have published short stories and an upcoming illustrated novelette in several small press magazines and anthologies. Strangely, I am still finding my voice, and the last couple years discovered poetry was part of that voice. Christian Avery
Bryant's poetry can be read on
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