Keith Gaboury

Keith Gaboury Poems

Every time the bell rings,
I feel the jolt of his
rag doll body flying
on the fringes between

I have stolen
the rainbow fishes
that were in
the fish tank

dandelion fuzz
spikes past
a hummingbird’s
slapshot blurred wings

searches the outline of her shadow
on a sizzling jungle gym blacktop
where a highway friend
zipped in and out of focus

My mother told me to believe in God.
My father told me to believe in whatever I wanted.
My brother told me that it doesn’t matter what
you believe, just as long as you believe in something.

Poetry should come from the inside out,
from the soul’s cherry pit to the tip of the pen
capturing and holding onto the
beauty found in the ordinary:

Poetry pours out of the mouth
and drops like pebbles into an ocean,
causing ripples and white-crust waves
to form on a shore as the tide comes in


that somebody else’s
freedom is worth a mother
losing her son on a desert
battlefield filled with bullets

Wished away dandelion bones
scatters about, six feet under,
a separation that sends a
chill of meditation or menace

Ice clanking vodka kisses
the scarred lips
of a man searching
beyond the encompassing

plastic groom, plastic bride
stuck deep
in idealistic icing-
vows uttered though

crunching on freshly fallen leaves,
a child aimlessly searches for some form of
i m a g i n a t i o n,
yearning to coil his mind like a wire-

a mother's tired hands
scrubs her shivering son
with a soapy washcloth
in rising tepid water

castles crafted by
sand-covered fingers
held within a skeleton of
crushing white lip waves

Shimmering silverware clanked
against the perfect plates
as an uneasy, upset silence
draped over the dinner table,

Keith Gaboury Biography

I was born in Berkley, Calf. but moved to Colorado when I was five. Then my dad found a new job in Kansas, so I went to high school and college in eastern Kansas. After I graduated from Baker University, I got accepted into the MA program in English and Creative Writing at San Francisco State University. I'm living in San Francisco now going to class and working on some more poetry. Writing has always been my passion, but only in the last few years have I really started to intensively write poetry. I guess I've made some strides, but I still have a long ways to go. At Baker, I can have an emphasis on creative writing with my English major. So I think I'm gonna do that, and I'll just keep on writing and keep on keepin on along the avenue (my friend Bob Dylan) .)

The Best Poem Of Keith Gaboury

A Bullrider’s Wife

Every time the bell rings,
I feel the jolt of his
rag doll body flying
on the fringes between
his eyes, mouth, and lips
becoming a bull’s footprint
or making another buck
to pay for my sonogram
and the baby that will
soon be screaming
under the doctor’s lights.

Every time you come
back alive, I reach out
and touch the holes in
your shirt and the
grease in your hair:
I reach out to know
that everything is real,
that everything is born
again when so much
could have fallen apart
in eleven seconds or less.

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