D. G. Geis divides his time between Houston and the Hill Country
of Central Texas (USA). He has an undergraduate degree in English
Literature from the University of Houston and a graduate degree
in Philosophy from California State University. His poetry has
appeared in 491 Magazine, Lost Coast, Blue Bonnet Review, The
Broadkill Review
and A Quiet Courage. He will be featured in a
forthcoming Tupelo Press chapbook anthologizing 9 New Poets and
is also winner of Blue Bonnet Review's Fall 2015 Poetry Contest.

The Dead Can Swing Too

So maybe death is like a ballroom
with a hundred thousand dollar bandstand
and a thirty piece orchestra and the dance band
plays music from the forties and all the people dress
in their best party clothes and swing to tunes from
Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller,
Count Basie, and Artie Shaw.
Everyone whirls magically light of step
returning to their partners after every dip and turn,
and no one stumbles or trips over their own feet
or their partner's, and best of all,
when the music stops

everybody gets a chair.


It's not much of a garden:
January rain and sheeted ice

stretched over the carcass
of a creaking bed frame.

Cellophane leaves with
nothing to disturb them

but the small tracks
of Dürer's children

breaking the crusted grass
with the extra weight

of two ankle monitors.

State of the Universe Address

Lights out
in this arm of the galaxy

where things spiral wondrously
out of control.

Stars glittering like sequins
on a party girl's miniskirt

vanilla sprinkles frosting the void
of a trillion year old birthday cake.

And the Good Lord,
our Birthday Boy,

poised in his high chair
waiting patiently, so patiently,

to blow out the candles.


Because your wife
was unfaithful,

it is snowing
in Havana.

It is sunny, though,
in Houston,

where beggars
ambush drivers

with lives tagged
in Magic Marker.

Only the esplanade preacher
sees the hand of God

shaking pennies
from a cloud bank;

and Jesus in grandma's room
binge watching creation.

The Weather Channel
warning of a storm front

closing fast
bearing down on Texas,

or maybe Oklahoma.
And an angel bending over

listening carefully with
one good ear.

Back to Front.