James Andrews grew up in tiny Mt. Gilead, NC (pop.1200) and spent almost a lifetime in the theatre. He produced almost 300 shows, acted in over 100 and directed 80 more. He began writing poetry in his mid-teens and has passionately read and written it ever since. He lives in Fort Mill, South Carolina.
These are the things that press down upon the world.
They are the semblances of rings around the moon.
The howling dogs in barking circles
...
Drawn lines amongst the willows dripping,
Shadows of the morning,
Sight set upon the evening star,
He gazes at the solstice moon,
...
Down we drove,
The rim of Philadelphia
Hot motorcycle
Burning in the truck.
...
The waltz begins
And partners are exchanged
The dancers float across the ballroom
...
Wide eyed and open in astonishment I watch
Those long and curving red nailed fingers
Close around me in the evening,
Sun setting in the windows of the Hudson
...