Bill Garten
"Symptoms" is Bill Garten's 4th book of poetry and through his vivid images and confessional style his latest book explores not only why we are here, but how we have come to various points in our lives and finally how we have to accept them. Bill Garten is asking questions not only about his life, but the lives of others around him. The confessional style of this book demonstrates how the author is not afraid to hide and literally is standing naked in front of his audience. Bill is more or less saying "this is who I am" - without any false walls or pretenses.
Bill Garten is the winner of the Margaret Ward Martin Prize for Creative Writing and The Emerson Prize for Poetry. He has published poetry in over 200 literary journals and magazines such as
Rattle, Hawaii Review, Poet Lore, Wisconsin Review, Antietam Review, Midwest Poetry Review, Interim, The G.W. Review and others. Bill is author of three other books of poetry, "Black Snow", "Red Rain", and "Eventually". Bill has been anthologized in "Wild Sweet Notes, Fifty Years of West Virginia Poetry 1950-1999"; "And Now the Magpie", a selection of winning entries of the West Virginia Writer's Annual Awards Competition and in "What The Mountains Yield" a collection from West Virginia Writers. Bill has lived in North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Tennessee, Florida, Ohio and West Virginia and his email address is redlol2@aol.com
Frame 1600: In The Closet I Find
Your old beige silk sports jacket, a gift from mother
The last time I went to visit her two years after your death
I decide to try it on tonight and it doesn't fit
Just like the hand-me downs from my two older brothers
Eventually father, I outgrew your advice and my desire
To be like you. Tonight as I am about to throw your jacket
Away I find inside its inner chest pocket a whtie three by five
Card with four strange names - prospects,
People I don't ever recall meeting in your
Familiar handwriting. You once told me nothing
Happens until a sale is made and
On the way home tonight I bought this whiskey
And I'm going to crawl into it. Pretend I'm five again.
And that this bottle is your arms.
