Why Must Her Secrets Be Published?

By Kim Breneman

Why Must Her Secrets Be Published? covers a silence that lasted from 1980-2002. It explores secrets in poems such as fragrant white and gertrude stein roars. It also explores changes in the authors style through the years. Kim Breneman first book, Minutes Are Circling Spokes, was published in 2002.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 23, 2003
• ISBN: 9781469104270

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 © 2003 by Kim Breneman.

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This book was printed in the United States ofAmerica.

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Contents

GREEN CARNATIONS

FOR SALE

IS THIS A BALL

AT HALLOWEEN?

THE MOON—A CLOCK

THAT TICKS ITS LIGHT

I HOLD THE ROD

I HOLD HER WITH

CUPS AND SAUCERS

A PEN IS MY DOMINION

HELLO, RAILROAD TRACK

IS IT NORTH OF A MAZE?

HE FORCES HER TO

MAKE A CHOICE

THIS IS THE

SEASON OF CHANCES

ALL HANDS

POINT TO SUE

PERHAPS I AM MISTAKEN

WHY IS HER VOICE

ERASED BY SNOW?

I REPORT THAT I

SKINNED MY KNEE

WHY MUST HER

SECRETS BE PUBLISHED?

THIS SLIT IS ALL I HAVE LEFT

ONLY THE MOON GRINS

HER MOUTH IS

A CRACKED BELL

SHE OPENS ME

WITH POETRY—

I MUST BE TEN

SHE DROPS

THE WEIGHT OF HIM

MY LIMP ROCKS

THE LANDSCAPE

GIVE US YOUR POWERS

THEY OPEN ME WITH PROSE

WITHOUT HER I SCRAPE

WHERE YOU ARE IS POETRY

SUCCESS IS THE MOON

SHE WIPES OUT

LOWER VOICES

STARS ARC

MOTHBALLS, DUST

I TEAR MYSELF FROM HIM

I TREAD INTO THE CURRENT

HER EYES ARE

UNDISCOVERED COUNTRIES

THE MOON IS A CLOCK

THAT ROCKS HER FACE

FIRE SLEEPS ON TREES

I PULL MY ROOTS FROM YOU

LET ME DANCE

THROUGH YOUR EYES

A GAP BOLTS

TAKE WITH

YOU YOUR HEART

A POET IS A BULB OF LIGHT

ORBIT ME TODAY

I MUST PART

FROM THE MOON

DOES THE SKY MOURN?

I PRESS

THE SHELL OF HER EAR

HER FIRST POEMS BEGIN

SCOOPED AWAY

IN A COMMON CRY

SHE IS NAILED DOWN

HER SHADE BENDS

TO MY SHOES

O FRONTIERSWOMAN

I FLY STRAIGHT INTO YOU

THE HELICOPTER

MOON COMES

DOWNHILL I SPIN

I WISH FOR A BALLOON

YOU ARE THE WINDOWS

TO HILLS OUTSIDE

THE WHALE SCALES

BLUE TERRAINS

SMOKE PIERCES BLACK SKY

WE SPLASH THROUGH

A STREAM

GLADIOLAS ARE GLAD IN SUN

I KNOW THE TERRAIN

OF HER FACE

OUR MARE—A STREAK

THEY FLY THE VIOLET WAY

I ONLY GLANCE

PAST MY WALLS

MY LOVER’S FACE WAS

FIRST A BLINKING GREEN

MAY