Luminous in the Owl's Rib

<p><span style=background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0); color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>In this collection of poetry </span><em style=background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0); color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Luminous in the Owl's Rib</em><span style=background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0); color: rgba(0 0 0 1)> former Indiana Poet Laureate George Kalamaras continues his ongoing project of seeing one in the other-poems that explore the interface of the human and natural world. Following his Surrealist forebears Kalamaras explores the complexity of language with startling images and juxtapositions as a vehicle for visionary poetics. Writing a series of poems for musicians (including some of his favorite jazz greats) along with a several elegies for poets dear to him Kalamaras explores late-night moments of a generative solitude that leave the realms of loneliness becoming expansive and interconnected. These poems seek to connect our human impulses to the realms of the spiritual and the discursive. In the process the poems honor the varieties of human and animal experience-mammals marsupials and the insect world even probing the intelligence and vision that lie at the heart of molecules. The luminosity in the owl-the profundity of the numinous-Kalamaras shows us lies </span><em style=background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0); color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>inside</em><span style=background-color: rgba(0 0 0 0); color: rgba(0 0 0 1)> the owl even within the intimate space of a rib.</span></p><p></p><p>SAMPLE:</p><p></p><p>The Sound Behind Water</p><p></p><p>People are always asking <em>Which house is this?</em></p><p>They open a door and my chest sprouts sparrows</p><p>They close a window as an avocado dirts to seed</p><p>They look for the outline of a tree in fog</p><p>It is barely there behind their water</p><p>Beneath the sky</p><p>Inside the grass</p><p>Is a shape that moves like an eel</p><p>In the marsh of your eyes</p><p>I see myself struggling for sound</p><p>Like a hermit who even after years of silence</p><p>Can't forget his own name</p><p>We are struck to the earth like a bar of scented soap</p><p>An egret who has grown an extra leg</p><p>I move hesitantly feeling a larger portion of the world</p><p>Weighing less than a ballroom without snow</p><p>I float further into myself</p><p>Like a clock narrowing as it leaves midnight</p><p>Like a thin rug that has taken many years to weave</p>