A Web Del Sol Featured Poet


Peter Gizzi

There is only this season
and the missing pomegranate seeds
the myth of childhood happiness
and water dreams
for the body is an instrument

Lost children are really not lost
in the woods
you come upon an enthusiast
her name is a labyrinth
she will affix petals to your lips
saying "bad magic is a false tooth
bearing bad blood to your heart."



PETER GIZZI was born in 1959 and grew up in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. His publications include: Artificial Heart (Burning Deck, 1997), Hours of the Book (Zasterle, 1994), Periplum (Avec, 1992), and the chapbooks: Ledger Domain (Timoleon, 1995), New Picnic Time (Meow, 1995), and Music for Films (Paradigm, 1992). His poems have been anthologized in the Best American Poetry 1995 (Scribners), Sixty Years of American Poetry (Abrams), 49 + 1 Nouveaux Poetes Americains (Royaumont), and The Gertrude Stein Awards in Innovative North America Poetry 1993-94 and again in 1994-95 (Sun & Moon). In 1994 he received the Lavan Younger Poets Award from the Academy of American Poets.

His editing projects have included o.blek: a journal of language arts (1987-93), the international literary annual, Exact Change Yearbook (1995), and an edition of Jack Spicer's lectures forthcoming from Wesleyan University Press.

He holds degrees from New York University, Brown University, and SUNY at Buffalo. In 1993-94 he was a Visiting Poet in the Graduate Program in Creative Writing at Brown University. He currently teaches at the University of California, Santa Cruz.


A Work by Peter Gizzi:

    HUBRIS

    Grief is a rut
    I'm quick to furnish
    A frieze of dust and tears
    And the garden is abortive
    Lawn chairs (empty)
    Clank under a leaded sky
    Spring's a heavy
    While
    The reflecting pool
    Only a surface without consideration
    Others sink to this music
    As I double clutch into the ozone

    The room I inhabit (dada)
    Is mottled and water stained
    These ruins are my champions
    Sword strokes into air cut deep
    And to trade wounds for words
    Here
    I'm afraid I won't return
    And the winds ask "who are
    you saving your kisses for?"
    This architecture prevents closure
    And I seek protection
    From another morning's weaponry
    I am hiding
    As who abstracts into a god




Selections from Peter Gizzi's work:


Poetry, Part I

Poetry, Part II

Poetry, Part III







Email Peter Gizzi