Christopher Presfield

July 13, 2015

“Deep Water” by Christopher PresfieldPosted by

Christopher Presfield

DEEP WATER

At the river, I laughed in the face
of bluffs, dove deep with snakes,
and nearly drowned chasing sticks
thrown into shoals by a brother
I haven’t spoken with in years. No
wonder it turned out as it did,
everything gone back to its source.
I remember that wild look in his eyes
on the edge of the Big Piney,
how he couldn’t fathom my struggle
just to breathe. Not so different
from when he came to visit prison
and took me in his big arms, all
the love and panic just the same.

—from Rattle #47, Spring 2015

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Christopher Presfield: “As an American prison poet, I try to live up to the standards set by a long list of imprisoned poets before me, including the likes of Baca, Corso, and Robert Lowell, to name a few.”

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August 4, 2013

“Morning Riff” by Christopher PresfieldPosted by

Christopher Presfield

MORNING RIFF

Out this window, angles of light
and miles of chain link, blue sky
bearing down on it all—heavy
with high desert snow. It fades
quickly in the morning mist, and
there is little the muse can do.
Still, there’s a grip of ideas
beyond everything. And amber lights
like saucers circle the land,
as I am reminded of fiction
from another day, a dark age
before the penitent could sing
dirges of regret. This life,
the walls say, is far too gray.

—from Rattle #38, Winter 2012

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Christopher Presfield: “As an imprisoned poet and poetry editor, who has suffered far more as an editor, I feel an obligation to serve as a voice for the more than 2.2 million imprisoned persons in America. Someone must do so.”

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