poem index

poet

Tim Seibles

Printer-friendly version

Born in Philadelphia in 1955, Timothy Seibles earned a BA from Southern Methodist University in Dallas and an MFA from Vermont College. He is the author of Body Moves (Carnegie Mellon Classic Contemporaries Series Poetry, 2013); Fast Animal (Estruscan Press, 2012), a finalist for the 2012 National Book Award; Hammerlock (Cleveland State University Poetry Center, 1999); Ten Miles an Hour (Mille Grazie Press, 1998); Kerosene (Ampersand Press, 1995); and Hurdy-Gurdy (Cleveland State University Poetry Center, 1992).  He taught high school English for ten years and worked as writing coordinator of the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Massachusetts. He has also taught at Cave Canem and is currently visiting faculty for the University of Southern Maine’s low-residential Stonecoast MFA Program. His lives in Norfolk, Virginia, where he is an associate professor of English at Old Dominion University.

by this poet

poem

My thoughts are murder to the State and involuntarily go plotting against her.
          —Henry David Thoreau

As if leaving
it behind would
have me lost
in this place, as if

keeping it
could somehow
save me from the
parade of knives

poem

There are days I believe there ain' nothing to fear
I perk up for green lights, my engine on call
But it could be the zombies are already near

That sleep that we feed every day of the year
What's up with your friends when they circle the mall?
There are nights when I think I have no one to

poem
Five-legged pocket spiders, knuckled
starfish, grabbers of forks, why
do I forget that you love me:
your willingness to button my shirts,
tie my shoes—even scratch my head!
which throbs like a traffic jam, each thought
leaning on its horn. I see you

waiting anyplace always 
at the ends of my arms—for the doctor