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poet

Eric Baus

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Eric Baus

Eric Baus is the author of The Tranquilized Tongue (City Lights, 2014). He teaches at Regis University and lives in Denver, Colorado.

by this poet

poem
covered every window in the house with x-rays of my bandaged eye.

"working backwards from the sky" says she follows every fissure until it's
time for the stiches to come out. When something falls you should pick it
up.

"spilled sand and lamplight" has been my sister for a while now.

They say we are slivered
poem

The street grew only strangers. All the faces we were wore slings. An ingrown arena peered out from our sigh. We spread ourselves out to feel the glass in a crowd. We prayed to a dog, then some flies. Our solo was a burning zither, not a kite.

2
poem

The horse's pain never imagines a house beyond the storm. Its mirrored breath forms a force that dies without noise. The ice in a sickened room is not salt. Its perfume pours a rain that deletes the tacit skin.