Biography of Deborah DeNicola
Deborah DeNicola is the author of six books, most recently Original Human published (2010) by WordTech Communications, and her memoir The Future That Brought Her Here (2009) . Deborah edited the anthology Orpheus & Company; Contemporary Poems on Greek Mytholog, from UPNE press. Previous books include Where Divinity Begins from Alice James Books, and four chapbooks, Inside Light, Psyche Revisited, The Harmony of the Next and Rainmakers. Deborah was awarded a National Endowment Fellowship. Among other awards she won The Briar Cliff Review contest, The Packingtown Review’s Analytical Essay Award in 2008, Carpe Articulum’s Poetry Award in 2010 and the Santa Barbara Poetry Contest in 2008. She’s been published in Prairie Schooner, The North American Review, Antioch Review among other journals and in many anthologies including The Best of The Net 2008 Anthology, edited by Dorianne Laux. Her short story “come Alone” won the Carol Bly Award from Writersrisingup.com Deborah’s latest manuscript is Wonderbloom.
Deborah DeNicola's Works:
Original Human, Wordtech Communications 2010
The Future That Brought Her Here: A Memoir of Awakening Nicholas Hays/ibis Press 2009, InsideLight, a chapbook, Finishing Line Press 2007
The Harmony of the Next, Winner Riverstone Press Chapbook Award,2005, Where Divinity Begins, Alice James Books 1994, Psyche Revisited, Winner Embers Chapbook contest,1992, Rainmakers, Coyote Love Press,1984.
Deborah DeNicola Poems
Noli Me Tangere
There was a presence before the stone. A pressure so much larger than human wounds. My mind let go into the crags of sorrow and I grew
The Persistance Of Encumbrance
Lord, life after half a century drags a Uhaul behind it. A truck load of possessions that don’t love me back.
Hardly a thing I can hold in my hand. But I recall my small hand on the polished mahogany table out on the sun porch where I sometimes
John Baptizing Jesus
He must have been a sight, barbaric hair, dilated eyes(prelude to Herodias' still life on the platter)
Theresa In Ecstasy
after the sculpture by Giovanni Bernini Bernini's beatific
This Morning From The Porch
Unbearable brilliance. Each leaf surrendering to the late ceremony of sun. The neighbor's tomato plants have fallen through the slats in the white fence and in the breeze, there's no denying autumn.
The Tree At Casa Cara
Just off Route One before Tigertail Corner, down the street from Casa Cara, there's a gargantuan banyan
Not a cat, not a leopard, a lioness walks out of my eye, halts on furred paws. that cover her claws. Her head, turning, her orange mane hangs like drapery and when she opens
Loving Mark Strand
It's as if he knows how close he's always been to Spirit. As if your hand might pass through the numen of his voice and a little shadow shiver on the auditorium wall. If you asked I bet he'd glance away with a half smile and husky
The Gospel Of Mary
I was not alarmed when the doves continued to coo though their wings were burning. I was on fire too. It was morning. I was there
First Trip To The Infinite
Years before pop tops, I was five or six next to my brother on a redwood bench. I held a can of orange soda and looked through the triangle my Mother's church key bent. I thought the spot of sun inside was a sailboat, loved
We simply can't stand up, our faces two red berries glazed together, still damp after love. The way my right eye studies your left, lines at the temples grinning also. The way our noses rub like sniffing pups and how my mouth keeps lolling open, as if to inhale the whole room,
We survived the blast, the reek of burnt cabbage, putrid clouds, closer than we suspected.
There are broken rosaries in my dreams. We are up to our knees in murky water and the rain has been poisoned, sallowing our skin with pesticides. All your life you've been immunized from risk, waiting
Van Gogh's Room
Everyone's seen it. The wooden foot board
of the bed frame, slanted like the ceiling above
with the painting of a showgirl's golden hair
and his own self-portrait hung from wires.
The little table with blue pitcher and cruets
for vinegar or turpentine, and the mirror