Biography of Alexander Duncan
Alexander Duncan (born April 9,1954; Toronto, Ontario; 4: 12pm) is a Canadian poet. His mother, whom he never knew, was a ballet dancer. He earned his Bachelor of Arts (Honours) from York University in Toronto, Ontario, followed by one year of graduate study, specializing in modern poetry. In 2011 he converted to the Buddhadharma, after which time he began to publish his poetry, encouraged by Buddhist scholar Dr. Robert Thurman. He has published six books, including Khatas, his first book of poetry, published by Chroniker Press (www.chronikerpress.com) in 2012, and Excrescence of Bacchus, also by Chroniker Press, and is working on an original translation of the Tao Te Ching of Laozi. He also writes a political blog (An_2045) and a Buddhist blog (Pali Meditations, Naked Dharma) on Blogspot, Wordpress, and YouTube respectively. He lives in Deer Park, Toronto. He lives with Zenji, a long lanky tabby tom cat. For money he works in the financial press.
Alexander Duncan's Works:
Khatas (Toronto: Chroniker Press,2012)
Excrescence of Bacchus (Toronto: Chroniker Press,2012)
Alexander Duncan Poems
Tom Waits' Voice
tom waits drives into my head like the growl of streetcars flat
3 x 10 wide altogether 1 wheel 2 b its 0-being it uses a car
The Faces In The Rocks
The faces in the rocks Gaze at me Intent. They ask
A granite stone cube half buried in a sandy beach towers against the plain expanse of blue sky. Or is it merely infinitesimal in a world of stars? Perspective blushes the imagination. The universe crushes all experiences to sand, even a granite stone cube or an 'I.' We capitalize the term, we speak of 'an I.' I ruminate upon a granite stone cube, infinitesimal in a world of stars, being crushed to sand, and I understand, perceiving meaning in an arbitrary
A Poet's Life (On The Wrong Side Of The ...
I always wanted to be a poet But time intervened, Swept me away down the urban street A dance of newspapers and garbage.
Sunflower dazzles in rays of summer Like mind in its enlightenment state, At rest in its innate effulgence. Erect, uncouth,
I experience the slick of my brain, Geometric structures, Ecstasy, Consciousness.
The Loneliness Of The Dalai Lama
My birth, taken. Surprised by the light, The caravan carries me away Into the night.
The Sex Life Of The Octopus
Seven hundred million years old Going on three, The parrot-beaked mollusk, Tooth-tongued,
Tom Waits' Voice
drives into my head
like the growl of streetcars
close to the ground
tom waits' voice
a tribute to the man of the street
exalted by ordinariness
tapping out its own path's beat