F W Finney
Biography of F W Finney
Frank William Finney, Jr is a lecturer at Thammasat University, where he teaches literature.
He has published poems in many magazines, journals, and anthologies. For more biographical information please see: International Who's Who in Poetry and Poets' Encyclopaedia, Marquis Who's Who in the World, Who's Who in Poetry (Europa Publications) .
F W Finney's Works:
Fragments from the Smoked-Glass Elephant Bank (1990, Chapbook: ISBN 0-9626711-0-X)
The Dissolution of the Sparkling Bridge (1997, Suksit Siam, ISBN 974-89956-7-4)
Songs of Insomnia (2011, Suksit Siam, ISBN 978-616-90135-7-0)
F W Finney Poems
Blues In G Major: Nobody's Nose
The boats float down the river ’cross the seven stormy seas. The trains glide through the cities and What’s left of the trees.
The Mystery Of The Lakes
At Lake Lugano the one-legged swan posed for a lady with a broken high heel
Like a pilgrim off a plane I'll kiss the dirt. I'll shed comfortable tears
The steer with the bullhorn's hoofed it home. Tonight we'll hear no more from him. Let him bellow at passengers in his dreams. More time to dream tomorrow.
On A Rock By The Sea
Finger bridge shaking atlas holding up a chin with a toy revolver
Three sailors trotted Behind your mother in a two-wheeled lifeboat Like determined rats through the catwalks To the cages of the newborns
The Night You Fell
On the night you fell on the narrow steps you found your seat in the boat, as usual, while Papa woke the Evinrude
Dawn At Lovers' Grove
The lumberjack sleeps with a dancer in the woodshed Suppose he cuts her down
Those token drumrolls into place, that familiar bass line falls in line till it finds the keys and the brassy brass.
Every winter he sentences her to play the stalwart snow-woman
And if he were sitting here on this sinking summer evening- he might set down
Sitting By The Window At Three A.M.
Before they installed the arrow signal lights, left turns were risky enough at this intersection. No less than twice a week,
She's riding English (walk, trot, canter, gallop) . I watch her hair whip her shoulders; the look on her face- dentist's mouth,
Severine At Porter Station
Cassette guts strewn on the edge of a railway platform She counts five tiny lighthouses flashing
The guests have left
their fingerprints on the walls
of our now quiet house.
The chairs point in all directions
like messy hair.
They are in the air now-
probably somewhere over