Minutes Are Circling Spokes: Minutes Are Circling

By Kim Breneman

This book covers a wide range - from the attack on the World Trade Center to manic depression to poems responding to Emily Dickinsons. There are poems about Stein and Van Gogh, not to mention lambent poems to Sue. Anyone who cracks this book will feel well nurtured. In an age where prose prevails, these poems are lyrical, yet there are several non-rhyming poems with microscopic color.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 4, 2003
• ISBN: 9781469104263

Kim Breneman

This is Kim Breneman’s first published book of fiction. She has two books of poetry, Minutes are Circling Spokes, her first book, and her second book, Why Must Her Secrets Be Published? Her second book focuses upon the importance of speaking out . The poems in this book are centered around themes of silence versus sound. My Eyes Are Beveled takes this theme one step further. It breaks the silence of a frustrated writer who overcomes her fear of confronting herself and her husband. The central character is a woman who never questions her brilliance and who fights to hold onto her best friend, her diary.

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Copyright © 2002 by Kim Breneman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any

information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright

owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

my sting hides away

my pen—a bridge to you

sue—a breeze-

if i were the sea, i’d rush toward you.

sue must be the sea

my wings would be keys

jump into my whirling fringes

you grin into the scales of my eyes

my poetry grows

i reach for bees

if i must rest, let me nap in flames

may i strum your plums?

you lift your cornsilk sighs

is it not the same spark?

my daughter glowed

my eyes have many walls

you became a sigh

let me be a twinkle of snow

snatch his silver through the shadows

give me ruby wheat

a throb of light grabs her

she sweeps me through thunder’s bruised troops

through a question mark of glass march the soldiers of a guess

fire engines streak the sky

these notes are cups of dust

into the blue i’m scooped by sue

where is the dragon who breathes this hiss?

fingers—shadowy, fluttery wings

a lonesome pine is gertrude stein

mother lives in a wooded gap

i rake the dark

i spill upon your feathers

through a waltz of hesitation we reach our destination

i shiver in your dew

i’m hauling another truckload of wheat up this