Kathryn Fazio
Kathryn Fazio- An Arab-American with artistic roots in the Middle East, motivates individuals to vote and writes poems that support parity, especially for insurance coverage. On stage with New York State she recited “Seancing Kendra" appearing in her book, A Taste of Hybrid Vigor: new poems of War, Passion, and Social Significance that includes images of her oil paintings. She was named poet laureate of her university after submitting her poem, “War". In 2004 she represented the U.S.A. at the Fifth World Congress of Poets, received the Silla Gold Crown World Peace Literature Prize from Korea. Kathryn works as mental health advocate, edited, “Our World In An Onion” for people coping with A.I.D.S. and co-developed the first adaptive technology center for the Blind/Visually Impaired at the College of William and Mary."The Kathryn Videos" qualify Social Workers for C.E.U credits. Find more from Kathryn here.
Fire With Fire
A guitar in the mire,
In grasping for freedom
We cut the neck of a lute.
For the sake of one nation,
We decapitate whole societies.
In grasping for fruit
We lean on the bowl
And throw up the flute.
What the witches of Eastwick
Could do with a cherry!
A Brand New God
A Brand New God exploded in a nearby toy factory yesterday,
Where physicians gathered for the 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004,
2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010-2022, healthcare conferences.
Bystanders wedged between Pokemon and Minnie Mouse
Stumped attendees,
Who discussed the grave state
Of a handkerchief,
And the sole remains
of leaves
of grass.
I Ask My Son To Kneel
I ask my son to kneel and he bends to face the shoreline
Where the starfish squirms on the muddy sand.
He picks the creature up and asks, “Which is the pinky?”
Minuscule bumps chill his young skin as the body rests on his palm.
He pinches a limb and watches to see if it falls safely into his pail.
Far away from the seagull’s mouth, the invertebrate dangles.
It swings as a timepiece on a chain clenching the air around its body.
Its kept its perfect form in-spite of the wrath of weather or wave.
As the current carries knotted knuckles of seaweed away, my son
stops his playing.
Pulled by the joints in the salty breeze my son remains still
on his knees and I am beside him praying.
Bend Down To Pick Up The Button Even Though It Has Holes In It
Kiss it to the sky like a new found penny and send it to the moon.
As you walk sideways into a bottle that is lying on the ocean’s bar,
Admit you buried your pains and turned them into secrets, burrowing
Two paths to swallow as you gush into the muddy cave of sea you see.
There is a wave of oysters swishing back and forth from your mouth,
Clinging to the tongue’s sore surface, waving the torn flag of romance.
There is a clipper, a mirage, splitting the water into past and present.
I know you’ve stumbled and are lost in the stars, the foam and waves.
Pick up the button, she is a good boat, and even though your coat closes
Without her/him/she/he/it, it is swell to remember the curve of a lover,
The smile wrapping around you and the warmth of the sun each morning.
Take the wheel, it comes with love and even though your infected mind
Hugs the shoreline scattered with the newspaper prints of dating services,
Pick up the button, she is a good boat. The promise of a hymn.
Simple as the sun
Simple as the sun,
It came out of hiding.
It rustled the branches
Threatening a break.
Still, the tail jumped,
Securing its safety.
The trees whistled time;
The squirrel’s climb home.
Change
When did these limbs of mine
Enter the remains
Of a burnt out forest,
Erect a headstone, wave a torch?
Who stole the scarlet berries
I saved in the basket of my youth?
I rolled down the hills of Ireland
Swinging a basket of Edelweiss,
Until a cemetery of trees
Swelled my eyes shut
In the sunken cave of the petrified,
Where people pace in foxholes,
And where I am still,
Rooted down in the scorch.
If I Were a Rooster
If I were a rooster in the road
Whose mouth was parched with longing,
Would you dance a magic staircase to the moon, Ask the Gods for water,
Or pour your sweat beads over me,
In some wild thunderstorm.
