Biography of Sean Nevin
Sean Nevin teaches creative writing for Arizona State University where he serves as the assistant director of ASU's Young Writer's Program. He is editor of 22 Across: A Review of Young Writers, and his poetry has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including The Gettysburg Review, Blackbird: an Online Journal of Literature and the Arts, North American Review, Cutthroat, 5AM, JAMA, Hayden's Ferry Review, Runes: A Review of Poetry, and Family Matters: Poems of our Families. His poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and his chapbook, A House That Falls, won the 2005 Slapering Hol Press Chapbook Prize. Other honors include the Alsop Review poetry prize, an Academy of American Poets Prize and a fellowship from the Arizona Commission on the Arts. - See more at: http://arts.gov/writers-corner/bio/sean-nevin#sthash.mcP3Peof.dpuf
Sean Nevin Poems
Heart Of The Tyrant King
The carpenter bees leave their sawdust dunes heaped on the porch beneath the wood railing like ancient pyramids returning to sand, and the damn termites have taken the walls.
Things seem to take on a sudden shimmer before vanishing: the polished black loafers he wore yesterday, the reason for climbing the stairs, even the names of his own children
Solomon's Tool Shed
The three pine steps have worn soft. The sagging runners
Hinged Double Sonnet For The Luna Moths
For ten days now, two luna moths remain silk-winged and lavish as a double broach pinned beneath the porch light of my cabin.
A blizzard, late in the season, arrives with its sudden cannonading . . .
The evening light of suburban New Jersey has in it smears of newsprint and the Khaki shades of trench coats slung over seatbacks.
The human tongue, in disbelief, obsesses at the tender pit of a tooth,
The Carpenter Bee
Black and polished with light, it treads the air beneath the arched soffits of our house, where
The Other Draem In Which He Is Weightles...
When finally Solomon would drop, heavy as a scuba diver from a boat, into sleep, the table fan keeping quiet sentry over his body, he could dream,
Working And Singing
A lemon clip-on earring knocks against the fat and perfumed cheek of the Jamaican orderly leaning in to change the soiled sheets.
Solomon's Tool Shed
The three pine steps
have worn soft.
The sagging runners
bleached from sun
and rock salt,
warped and grain
tattered from boot