http://www.keithekisswriter.com/events daily 0.75 2015-07-17 http://www.keithekisswriter.com/home-2 daily 1.0 2025-03-20 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/d1f2d764-a80b-40d7-bed9-4a6188a14097/BestNewAuthor+Photo+for+Keith.jpg Home - Make it stand out ©Micaela Go https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/b5e739d8-afd5-436f-b6e2-4db8cae33fd2/image+3.jpg Home - Make it stand out Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/1742485455442-RW4ZYRHXDSCHJ1MEP7MZ/71Y9V3aINnL._SL1360_.jpg Home http://www.keithekisswriter.com/tour daily 0.75 2015-05-01 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/53fe025fe4b09b99036bcf87/1410274480694-3J1MSUR7YH7S5WTPGZ9W/EbruYildiz_372.jpg Events http://www.keithekisswriter.com/new-page-1 daily 0.75 2024-09-02 http://www.keithekisswriter.com/contact-keithekiss daily 0.75 2024-09-02 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/58d00f106b8f5b01c8e73f52/1491858427382-L46N6OML0EQRY4L20YNX/color-3.png Contact http://www.keithekisswriter.com/poetry-keithekiss daily 0.75 2025-03-20 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/6b513c10-3db5-42b7-a5b5-6391bebb5ed8/PICT0004_4_2.JPG Poetry - Pima Road Notebook 1 My mother’s voice echoed me nearer toward home. Sad quail in the brush, searching for her children. Her stain glass hobbies, her knotted macramé. Bougainvillea papering the window, blood light. Jackrabbit in summer, beating white heart. A pheasant blown off-course into plate glass. The vulture hopped as it ate, puppet-like. The temperature of silence was always rising. I could hear the needle of the palo verde drop. She talked on the phone and hung up the phone. I was left to wandering the saltbrush. In desert light, in thirsty light, out past the houses. Out past the idea of roads toward the dry wash. Her medicine cabinet a cave of tints and scents. I twisted her lipstick, the spiral a tendril. Smelled the sweet clay of Sunset Red emollient. Who broke the necklace of the river? I straightened my dive through the infertile water. Blue relief, our chlorinated swimming pool. first published in Blackbird https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/e4971efe-330d-4122-a5b2-15e7469a535b/71Y9V3aINnL._SL1360_.jpg Poetry - Infant Phrenology appeared on Verse Daily, March 20, 2025 Hello, world. Hello, animal. Here's the real undinal vast belly: fortuneteller's ball concealing our future: womb-stranger. The bundle, the bun, the solved equation. The medicine, the talcum, the miconium. Mind the fontanel. The smallest hand built for your hand. The magic number turning the couplet into three, solid as the legs of a milking stool. Birth prepares a face for the breast: nose pushed up, tongue untied, testing your weather for a nipple. His mouth cries and just like that it's laughter. Soundings meant for you alone to hear. Baby things. The songs we never thought we'd sing. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/af4c3e56-e0bf-4231-8da2-3784cca0d979/cover4.2_0.jpg Poetry - Up and Down Picacho Peak Hunter trail, I walk the path named for the Confederate Captain who burned haystacks to starve Union horses. Blue lupine guards the way, globe mallows beneath my feet map the landscape's vastness: both sides were lost, hadn't meant to skirmish. If they almost died of thirst, there were too many reminders of water: palo verde swim in yellow and bees, the peak curls like a wave about to break. An easy climb, straight up through granite cliffs, unlike this history. Slaves the territory sought as soldiers to flush out Apache, and keep the mines humming. I reach the summit quickly, scenery and scent: ploughed cotton fields, dead volcanoes. I turn my back on the freeway. The better idea of the West, arroyos toward the Sawtooth range, no roads find it- beauty like stillness, though it never lacks thorn and edge. On the way down, I skip the marked trail, drift along the ridge: the animal spine of it, the broken back of it. Switchbacking starling nearly spears my hair. I chimney lower, careful for pincushion needles, thinking as I lose my way slowly: hard to believe they fought for this, shins cut, shaken into laughter, already full of the story. first published in Superstition Review https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/56e049e08a65e26059119cd5/1462307270587-FP4LH74IUETV5IM696NX/img-02.jpg Poetry http://www.keithekisswriter.com/translation-keithekisk daily 0.75 2024-09-03 http://www.keithekisswriter.com/new-page-3 daily 0.75 2025-03-20 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/6c676f20-0bc4-4c3f-81b4-53ed65bfaa4a/odiolg.jpg Books - Territory of Dawn: Selected Poems of Eunice Odio The first book of Costa Rican poetry translated into English. published by Bitter Oleander Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/bac38b61-4750-47bb-b124-0cce19493945/71Y9V3aINnL._SL1360_.jpg Books - NEW! Now out from Gunpowder Press Praise for Burial Fragments “San Francisco, the millennial city: Mission and Market, bars and cafes, hills, bridges, and ocean. To read the pages of Keith Ekiss’s Burial Fragments is to follow a gorgeous thread of urban encounters until you reach the center of the anxious, frenetic, marvelous, and random maze that is life and fatherhood at the edge of America and the 21st century. Ekiss’s subtle prose-poem portraits read like novels in miniature, while his meditations on panic attacks and raising an only child unfold with such distilled precision, you feel their power like current through a wire. As with the city it honors and elegizes, this memorable collection reveals evocative surprises everywhere you look.” —Maria Hummel, author of Still Lives https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/eabba8de-0d10-46be-bdd3-80bea3616e6d/tavern-odio-pt1-paper-1500x1500.jpg Books - Reviews of The Fire’s Journey, Eunice Odio’s epic poem, published as a 4-volume set by Tavern Books, 2012-2019 “It is Time to Reveal Myself: Eunice Odio’s The Fire’s Journey,” by Dean Radar, in the Huffington Post “The Creation of Herself: Eunice Odio’s Mythopoetics,” by Sharon Mesmer, in American Poetry Review https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/1b29310d-90d4-4204-b742-170f8eb71869/keithcrop.jpg Books - Praise for Pima Road Notebook “Keith Ekiss’s remarkable first collection contrasts the finite imagination of the American dream with the enduring serenity and mystery of the Sonoran Desert. Free of sentiment and dream trance, Ekiss is a fair witness to one of America’s most sundered lands.” — Michael Collier, author of The Missing Mountain, New & Selected Poems “In the midst of dead fathers, blurred histories and lost peoples, the ‘flowering of drought’ and the ‘cleansing of roots’ is possible. In horizon-shaped lines and measured whorls of breath, Keith Ekiss guides us through the brave spaces between fire and desire. A brilliant collection for years to come.” — Juan Felipe Herrera, author of Akrílica https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/1725318792459-CJ5H2G0B149ZKE2BSPNF/fj3.jpg Books https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/1725318788025-T41G4B91ASP8T8LMJZ6T/tavern-odio-firesjourney2-paper-1500x1500.jpg Books https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55a95fdee4b0249b70ce6348/1725318796130-G457HTUX62B1IF6GC6CI/FJ%2BIV%2BCover%2B-%2BPB.jpg Books http://www.keithekisswriter.com/reading daily 0.75 2024-09-03