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Belly Up is a chapbook filled with poems of intoxication, both literally and figuratively. The poems move through the many occasions to drink both joyously and out of depression. These poems wander in and out of bars, bottles, rivers, thoughts, and characters. And, in the process, find that the world is an intoxicating place whether one looks at it half full or half empty, no matter how you look at the glass. So belly up to the bar and drink!
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AUTO-BIO
$14.00
AUTO - BIO is not an autobiography, rather an exploration of self; the external, understanding the surroundings around the self, as well as internal, how the self perceives and reacts to the world. How we view the surrounding landscape reflects the landscape of the mind and how we construct ourselves. And much like the unexamined life is not worth living, the unexamined death is not worth dying.
80 pages.
*Cover photo by Keith Zimmerman.
AUTO - BIO music tracks now available!
In a collaboration with my brother, David Stein, we put together some music along with the readings of my poetry. Some of the poems are from the book and a few are new ones. Available for listen and download HERE.
AUTO - BIO is not an autobiography, rather an exploration of self; the external, understanding the surroundings around the self, as well as internal, how the self perceives and reacts to the world. How we view the surrounding landscape reflects the landscape of the mind and how we construct ourselves. And much like the unexamined life is not worth living, the unexamined death is not worth dying.
*Cover photo by Keith Zimmerman.
www.kzarts.com
*Cover photo by Keith Zimmerman.
www.kzarts.com
AUTOFrom the Greek word autos, meaning 'self'
By ones self, without external assistance or influence Starting or functioning indepedently |
BIOFrom the Greek word bios, meaning 'life'
Prefix referring to a system of organisms A living thing with biological processes capable of growth, reproduction and death |
Peter Stein’s new collection moves deftly across the American landscape, traveling from hard-edged urban scenes through countryside where the “dry grass rolled/into defensive posture possum balls.” In a passionate search for meaning in the cosmos, often at highway speed, Stein’s poems are filled with the imagery of burning, where “hot with unrest, the people bubble/out of their pots onto the street/to see if life has anything better to offer/ than dreams”. Lovely alliteration (“the cellular silk sheath concealing the Self”) and peaceful, reflective moments, contrast with an intense quest for answers that too often prove as elusive and disorienting as “windshields reflecting windshields reflecting windshields…”
Kirsten Dierking, author Northern Oracle
Kirsten Dierking, author Northern Oracle
excerpt from On the Highway
the white lines draw me in,
hidden morse code messages
spelling out S.O.S. or some other
psychosomatic scheme.
the road tells no story,
but my mind turns over
with each click of the odometer
as it needs something to feed on,
eating up the lines as if
they were Dostoyevsky.
each pale stripe on the asphalt a guru
guiding me through the gap in the forest,
preventing me from veering off
into animalistic tendencies,
every blink brings me closer to
indulging in dreams
hidden morse code messages
spelling out S.O.S. or some other
psychosomatic scheme.
the road tells no story,
but my mind turns over
with each click of the odometer
as it needs something to feed on,
eating up the lines as if
they were Dostoyevsky.
each pale stripe on the asphalt a guru
guiding me through the gap in the forest,
preventing me from veering off
into animalistic tendencies,
every blink brings me closer to
indulging in dreams
excerpt from To All
I fall in love with you all
as the moon continuously falls from the sky,
in distant admiration, always following along
and seeing each of the many faces,
reaching out with gentle light
touching the cheek as it sleeps
to transmit beauty-dreams
as I turn towards the sun
I fall with no regret or concern for the exposed corpse,
it will not be bruised by egos or malevolence.
Touch me how you chose, it will not hurt
for I find solace in the angry eyes,
they will soften with a smile.
Sliced up, served any which way,
I am honored to be a dinner guest,
chewed and consumed and filtered
into the bloodstream
to become the thick skin
that protects you
as the moon continuously falls from the sky,
in distant admiration, always following along
and seeing each of the many faces,
reaching out with gentle light
touching the cheek as it sleeps
to transmit beauty-dreams
as I turn towards the sun
I fall with no regret or concern for the exposed corpse,
it will not be bruised by egos or malevolence.
Touch me how you chose, it will not hurt
for I find solace in the angry eyes,
they will soften with a smile.
Sliced up, served any which way,
I am honored to be a dinner guest,
chewed and consumed and filtered
into the bloodstream
to become the thick skin
that protects you
