“A Winter Dream” by Arthur Rimbaud



In winter we’ll travel in a little pink carriage
With cushions of blue.
We’ll be fine. A nest of mad kisses waits
In each corner too.

You’ll shut your eyes, not to see, through the glass,
Grimacing shadows of evening,
Those snarling monsters, a crowd going past
Of black wolves and black demons.

Then you’ll feel your cheek tickled quite hard…
A little kiss, like a maddened spider,
Will run over your neck…

And you’ll say: “Catch it!” bowing your head,
– And we’ll take our time finding that creature
– Who travels so far…

Arthur Rimbaud

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Photo by VC Ferry


© 2011

“Secret Beaches” by David Romero



Secret beaches
Tend not to live up to their name
But they often mean a lot
To those who name them
Today we walk your secret beach together
The meaning is not lost on me
Today we walk
Like mad and innocent children
You make me feel ancient
We have a history
Years ago I took you to a secret beach
Where we shared our first kiss
Under a shining sun
The crashing of waves as our soundtrack
You’ve brought me here
So that I could hear it playing again
Irresistible, I pull you towards me again
Once more
Like the surf falling from the seashore
This all seems inevitable
Your body still fitting into mine
Comfortable in my arms
Our lips and our tongues finally part ways
I look into your face
No longer seeing the woman you have become
The girl you once were
The girl I once found
The sweet princess
With a heart surrounded by barbed wire
A castle surrounded by landmines
You placed them there yourself
Part defense mechanism
Part masochism
Cynicism and sarcasm
I loved it all
I love to see you smile
You are mine again
Like you never left
The secret beach is playing our soundtrack
It keeps on skipping on this track
With sounds jarring

“Son, I never want to see you like this again.”
Again and again
In the past
My friends come up a hill
Something in their slow approach highly suggestive
Heavy with bad news
I know
You stand upon this beach
Asking for forgiveness
When you don’t have anything nice to say
You shouldn’t say anything at all
So, I am silent
Fuck you
Your smile, is beautiful
Vulnerable and open
My smile is there too
Full of hate
We have a history
You are comfortable in my arms
A girl I once found
A woman who would be mine
Part sadism
Part masochism
Cynicism and sarcasm
I once loved it all
As I love the beach
I will never love you again
Will never believe in secret beaches again
You are not a girl any longer
You are a woman
I am a man
Secrets are not kept
Others will walk this beach

David Romero

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2011

L. K. Thayer’s interview with LA Poetry Examiner

Ms. Lisa K. Thayer, one of Los Angeles’ poetry sweethearts…

  • September 30th, 2010 5:00 pm PT

Lisa K Thayer is one of LA Poetry’s sweethearts.  She’s a hands on organizer of poetry with her online “Poetry Juice Bar” as well as co-producer of “The Jazz Poets Social Club” every Sunday evening at Elderberries Cafe in Hollywood.

Ms. Thayer also appears in the highly acclaimed “Waiting For Jack”  a poetry theater event produced by Eve Brandstein, Rex Weiner, Michael C. Ford and John Densmore and presented by Tom Landau’s STUDIO 1520. Lisa will be reading “Ann Waldman’s” poems.

The Los Angeles Poetry Examiner literally ran into Ms Thayer in the crossfire of Internet Poetry Networking, yet another topic we’ll cover in the coming weeks. I thought it necessary to ask the Lovely Lisa a few questions for Examiner…

You are listed with the poets that used to read back in the day with Poetry In Motion, what do think about, that after all these years, the poets are still having at it?

Lisa Thayer:
Great. We only get juicier as we age with our own experience. I’m glad that they are still writing, sometimes it is a matter of life and death, like breathing. It means ‘their creative force is alive and they are listening to it. It’s a beating heart.

How long have you been writing and sharing your poetry?

Lisa Thayer:
I started out as a singer/songwriter (I’ll give you a CD)…for 2 years I just heard melodies and words just fell out, it was really a purging of emotion that I expressed in lyric form, which to me is the same as poetry. Then I didn’t write for a long time until I started studying regularly with Jack Grapes, an amazing teacher in LA. He has inspired me to go into the deep voice and get to the good stuff, so about, jeeze, all in all about 5 yrs. only, 2 1/2 I think with Jack.

Which writers or poets helped shaped your own voice in terms of poetic style, and which influenced you the most?

Lisa Thayer:
Anne Sexton speaks to me the most, with her freedom, madness and no holds barred style, she’s so brave and uncensored. Bukowski of course, Pablo Neruda lately, he’s so romantic and passionate…so many. I’m not really a reader, but I like short poems and can really get a poets style and voice when I study them, I’m an actor, that’s probably why, I have a good ear and am sensitive to where someone is coming from. I love “Bill” Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, actually, too many poets to name here!!

Where did you grow up, does this have a big influence on your poetry?

Lisa Thayer:
I really “grew up” in LA. I’ve lived here over 30yrs. I was born in Fargo, N. Dakota, yes! And was raised outside of Mpls. Minn. where I first got into theatre as a kid. I think the Midwest is a very soulful, honest place to be from, your words really mean something, you don’t just say something to say it, your word is valued more, like gold, really. I was raised on a lake every summer, my grandparents owned a home on Detroit Lakes, where my mother still lives. I always had a good imagination.

Tell me about L.K. Thayer’s Poetry Juice Bar, how long have you been running it and what made you start The Juice Bar?

Lisa Thayer:
Well, it’s funny, “The Juice Bar” is the first named that popped into my head, having to do I guess with “creative juices”…I started out with just my own poetry, I needed somewhere to put it, along with my nephew VC Ferry’s genius photographic images, i wanted to promote him, I still do. Then I invited other people’s work from Jack Grapes class & have recently gotten bit by the foto bug myself (I also created L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish) and that was a year and 80,000 hits ago. I call them “Guest Squeezes.” Things just keep getting juicier! We all do… like good wine!

“Praises From a Tenor Sax”

like salt on a bloodsucker

recoiling, shriveling

paralyzed fits of punishing



with the sell-out

the down and out

muck and mire choir


praises from a tenor sax

and a song

you can’t let go of

fill the loving cup

and drink it dry

try to stay away

but you can’t fight

the pull

of the taffy

you get stuck in the


and you wanna



– by L. K. Thayer

L. K. Thayer’s Poetry Juice Bar

L. K. Thayer’s Foto Fetish


Sarah Teasdale – Photo by VC Ferry

“I Am Not Yours”

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love — put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest

of your love,

A taper in a rushing wind.

Sarah Teasdale

VC Ferry


“all the way home” by Thayer/Ferry

he just kept playin’ and blowin’ his blue notes

into the echos of his emptiness

hitting notes of all our


as we listened to our heart strings

and our matter of factness

being  pulled back

we would forget what time it was

cause it stopped mattering

as his belly blew the melancholy

reaching right through us

reaching deep into us

reaching each other

as he took us

all the way home

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010

VC Ferry

“The nature of life is one of fleeting irony. We hold ourselves high, humans, people. The truth of the matter, is that we are no different than any other living thing. Our life depends on a series of reactions, of events. Every minute, second, micro-second. We breath, eat, sleep. Yes, while it’s true we think, we are conscious, this consciousness does not mean we are immortal. A child’s hopes and dreams can be shattered, ended, by a wrong step and a absent minded driver just as easily as each of our steps can break a blade of grass. A man’s early retirement can be cut short by an ill timed swim and a nasty undercurrent just as easily I just ended the life of a mosquito that just landed on my arm. We aren’t supreme, just blades of grass, weeds, blowing in the wind. All just waiting for the single gust that knocks us down.”

Photo & Quote by VC Ferry

© 2010

Dylan Thomas

“Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night”

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

Photograph by VC Ferry

© 2010