All posts by demarisgaunt

I currently live in Greenwood, Indiana. I love to listen to music, books on CD, podcasts or NPR as I work in my studio.  My favorite artists are Andrew Wyeth and Edward Hopper. I love poetry, but only the good stuff that isn’t so abstract I can’t understand it. Abstraction better lends itself to visual art, I think. Stephen Dunn is my favorite poet. He’s said just about anything that can be said about the inner workings of the heart and mind. My favorite novel is Atonement by Ian McEwan. My all time favorite band is The Cure. I love science, and anything that relates to how the mind works. I don’t believe in the supernatural. If I could meet anyone in the world, it would be Richard Dawkins or Steven Pinker. If you don’t buy my art or read my poetry, buy one of their books. It will enrich if not change your life.  My favorite things to do are hiking, kayaking and camping. My favorite food is so common, I’ll keep you in suspense (It starts with a P). I prefer chocolate to vanilla. Green is my favorite color. I have an aversion to planning or scheduling of any kind, and I live for spontaneous adventures! Telephone conversations make me anxious, and I avoid them at almost all cost. I had a happy childhood. I’m having a pretty fantastic adulthood. I have every intention of seeing my 100th birthday, after which I will happily relinquish my guts to the future of medicine. Cheers! ~DeMaris

Precious Thing

The new
unwrapped gift
is in front of you.
It’s exactly
what you’ve wanted–
never dreamed
you’d possess.
You can’t decide
if it’s as functional
as it is beautiful
but if you put it to use
it might break
or be destroyed
by the number of hours
you expect it to work–
after all
it isn’t a toy
but something fine–
something fragile
something so rare
your instinct
is to put it high
on that shelf
you paid too much for
last year in Providence
and walk away.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-6-17

Experiment

You,
my pretty love,
are an experiment—
you are a pillar
starting out perfect
and I am going
to carve you
with an honesty
so sharp
only diaries and priests
are accustomed
to such
clean cuts
such
unadulterated truths
and I can’t wait
to see if you’re
still standing
after you know
everything
I’ve ever needed
known
and if you might
become something
like a sculpture—
even more beautiful
when parts of you
are whittled
almost to the core—
polished by facts
that no one
is expected to share.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-4-17

 

 

 

Heart Surgeon Wanted

Today is the 50th anniversary of the first human heart transplant.

demarisspeaks

Constantly they fail—
those fist-sized lumps of tissue
that pound on and on for decades,
untrained to do anything
but keep the beat
while the body that surrounds them
begins to contemplate its limits.

And unlike oil changers or burger flippers
there isn’t help for the heart on every corner.
No drop-off or drive-through service
for the transplant or triple bypass.

The heart surgeon has a heart of his own—
enormous and brave,
fueling his skilled hands
as they cut open the hearts of others
that have decided to slow down or call it quits.
He answers prayers more reliably than god.

Wherever he goes
he is praised and envied,
except for home—
where guilt is an unexpected byproduct
of an education so complete
he’s beholden to it.

Years ago, when he gave his heart away
to that beautiful girl who said yes,
he couldn’t have imagined how many times

View original post 86 more words

Blood Loss

Please, heart,
stay where you are—
safe in the pocket of air
that surrounds you,
keeps you protected
from the blows
that are small enough
not to break you
but still bruise.

Please, heart,
listen this time—
remember the way it hurt
to beat for love
that was only half
fulfilled, half empty
every time
you pressed against
a foreign rhythm.

Please, heart,
don’t make this mistake—
don’t open your doors
for love
and settle for pleasure
when you know
how much it costs
to come so close
and still bleed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
11-28-17

Stopping Point

You are on your way
stopped
in the middle of nowhere—
the road having taken you
to a dead end
where you must make a choice
between a cozy log cabin
rustic
old
charming
in need of a few small repairs
not very spacious
but with a comfortable bed
and access to every tiny room—

or across the street
a more modern dwelling
with a beautiful façade
sharp angles, plush interiors
viewable from the grand foyer
which is where
you’d have to settle
because the rooms
are off limits to guests
for this season and the next
and even though the hospitality
is top notch and all-you-can-eat
you suspect
you would never be full.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
11-21-17