it was a brittle broken bell
it was some bold and boiling blood
the gaunt grey-suited man thumps his chest three thunderous times
three times in time with the brittle bell’s insistent chime
the third times the third time he beats his chest so hard
that he transcends the trap of time to talk with angels from afar
they carry broken brittle bells
they feed on boiling bold sweet blood
they feed on lost grey-suited men
they carry fury forged in hell
the brittle broken bell cried once more upon the altar
cried three tears for understanding
then three more for crimes withstanding
and then and only then did its tinny telling falter
he was a gaunt grey-suited man
he was ahead of everyone
Inside Purple Wizards is a menagerie of hope, light, and other words! In addition to all those words, you’ll get:
A TABLE OF CONTENTS!
But that’s not all – act now to receive your very own TITLE PAGE and APPENDIX!
I’m not kidding, party people. So much energy has gone into this collection of ~50 poem-like things. Things like: periods, commas, emojis, spaces, blood, avocados, the screams of neglected children, and love, pure love.
Don’t you think a copy would look swell on your shelf, or the shelf of your secret lover(s)? Christmas looms. Act like you care about someone and buy that someone the gift of More Poems About Purple Wizards and Neon-Bright Exceptionalisms right here!
All the reindeer make machines of skins on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Thanks to my friend who showed me this game, I don’t think I can get enough.
It’s a phenomenal game for kids to learn and play and grow up within.
Owners are not too friendly but they do have the very best stuffing.
Unending love and happiness and love conditions us for these shorter days.
I know it’s a risky gambit, so thanks for checking in this season.
A yellow southern light was on my mind
when I saw the unowned outlines for lower grades.
An alkaline evening needed me to pick you up in a boat,
wondering who we were before at this point in time.
To ulcers and ultrasound we have sacrificed cold chickens
wrapped in an oilskin with more sour measles (or less).
Pepper and rice are not a recipe for immortality
and the children of silk are not yet coded to THE BOOK.
Considering that we were not interested in any other way,
we domesticated sheep, cows, dogs, fowl, swine, rabbits, and rodents.
Probably wisdom from the future holds a positive conclusion
but sock snacks should save sunscreen soaked skin spray.
Confirming that we are heading in an opposite direction…
ask them ahead about how well prophets can do it for profits
ask them ahead about the next few years
ask them ahead about digging up the time capsules and finding nothing but gang deaths and candidates;
nothing but good mornings and fun riots of blue-eyed luck.
Have you seen the cover to More Poems About Purple Wizards and Neon-Bright Exceptionalisms? I mean, just look at it:
That’s a painting (by my wife), coupled with a drawing (by our daughter), that wraps around to the back where drawings (by our son) are sprinkled. The book has tons of art created by the rest of my family.
I love the cover. I love its over-saturation. I love its big, fat sun staring down a Purple Wizard. When I asked my daughter (8 when she drew it) to draw me a Purple Wizard she handed over an 8.5 x 11 sheet of paper with that image in one corner – and nothing else on the page. It’s like she knew her PurpWiz was destined to face something magnificent, yet heretofore unknown.
The title font was chosen by my editor, Jeannette “Super” Powers. She performed a number of magick acts surrounding Purple Wizards and choosing that title font, “Undercover,” was but one.
If you, dear reader, would like to run your soft, luscious fingertips up, down, and all over that cover and the pages it contains, pick up a copy here.
More Poems About Purple Wizards and Our Neon-Bright Exceptionalisms is, first and foremost, a book of collected poetry. It’s also, however, an exercise in book design and, for some, an entry to participate in The Game of Poems. In an effort to promote the book and decompress a bit from putting it together, I thought I’d do a short series of posts about its origin story.
The collection began, as most collections do, when its mommy collection and its daddy collection met, fell in love and kissed. Then, 10 months later – POOF! – a little purple wizard was born.And the purple wizard was a sweet, little toddler and a charming young person and a moody adolescent and an inquisitive young adult and a stressed-out grown-up and a collector of facts and incantations and aphorisms and finally the wizened purple-spirited book appearing before you today.
Purple Wizards, as a concept, began with the poem “Royal and Wrinkled with Age”, though that’s the poem that winds up now closing the collection. That poem has a line, “The Purple Wizard stands on a barren hillside / facing the rising sun,” that worked its way into the book cover collage (which I’ll talk about in a subsequent Purple Wizard Tale). I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of the wise, old person, persnickety yet divine, seemingly frail but truly full of fire. The book itself may or may not be concerned with that fascination but, nevertheless, I do hope we all grow to become Purple Wizards in our own right.
If you’d like to read more about Purple Wizards – and our neon-bright exceptionalisms – I wrote a book about ’em! You can buy it here.