Final Sequence of Poems From The Blood Dark Sea

In my attempt to serialize the poems of The Blood Dark Sea, I have placed batches of poems in the sequence they appear in the book at Outsider Poetry, not quite blank, The Journal of Outsider Poetry, Olivia Sucks, and my personal blog, Zombie Logic. After a couple of weeks of this process I have come nearly to the end of The Blood Dark Sea and want to post some poems by Dennis Gulling here at the flagship of Zombie Logic Press. 

 WHITMORE COUNTY 3 A.M.

My headlights

Push back the darkness

As I’m driving home to you

My hands are clammy on the wheel

Wondering how much you know

About why I’ve been gone

Did somebody tell you

How I got this car

Or what happened at the racetrack

With that woman from Indonesia

I cross the river bridge

Just north of town

Close my eyes

And see you sleeping

Your hair falls across

That angel face and

Your hands are restless

On the covers as you dream

No matter what I do

Or how long I stay away

We’ll be together forever

At least sometimes

T-SHIRT

He was going through

Dumpsters for cans

In the alley behind

Bailey’s Liquir

When he found a bloody t-shirt

With knife slits

Down the front

He took it home

And nailed it

To the wall

Above his bed

Like a crucifix

For 3 nights straight

He dreamed a wolf

Lead him through

Dark empty streets

To the river

Where the water ran red

In the moonlight

WISDOM

All she has left of him

Is a wisdom tooth

Wrapped in cotton

In a red velvet box

She keeps under the bed

In her dreams

He sings to her

From deep in her bones

A siren song she wants to follow

But can’t seem

To find the way

Then she’s awake again

In a bed too big

In a house too cold

And his leaving

Is just something else

That happened in her life

THE BLOOD DARK SEA

I will leave paradise

Scratched and stained

As a map so

You might find me

Before my boat is torn apart

On the blood dark sea

And I will live forever

In that moment

When I know

There’s no turning back to harbor

My downhearted lover

My savage renegade

You were damaged

By my kindness and

Made whole by my departure

It was all I could give you

That wouldn’t cost me

All I had

There’s no way home from here

No redemption now

The light is fading fast

Night is all around me

And now your memory

Pulls me under

To a place cold and deep

Where all dreams end

With a wolf at the door

Where every darkness has its ghost

SOME CRUEL HEAVEN

I’m on a burning ship

In the middle of the ocean

Dying from a gunshot wound

The wind is howling

A storm is coming on

And I don’t know

If you’ll ever read this letter

But I had to tell you

I never meant to let you down

Or leave the way I did

And you can keep

All that money you owe me

Use it to buy yourself

Something nice

And if you ever think of me again

Let it be for those

One or two things I did right

That didn’t make you cry

I want you to know

I didn’t have to come this far

To disappear

I’ve been doing it all my life

Even when

I was standing in front of you

It’s the one thing I didn’t have to learn

It’s hard-wired in my blood

I was always more gone than not

Now I’m getting cold

Under these sheets

The night sounds far away

And I know where this ship is taking me

I’ll be alive forever

In some cruel heaven

You’ll be with me then

And those are the poems from The Blood Dark Sea, a book of Outlaw Poetry by Rockford poet Dennis Gulling. Saturday night I had the pleasure of being Dennis Gulling in a way. A couple of hours before a reading he was scheduled to appear at I got a text that he was ill and the host asked if I could do a set. I said I would if I could pretend to be Dennis Gulling and read his poems. Well, I didn't say I would pretend to be Dennis Gulling, I just asked if it would be alright if I read from his book. I was given permission, and I had a good time reading some of my favorite poems from the book. I have seen Dennis read these poems, and they are so well constructed the audience almost invariably reacts at exactly the moment you would hope they would. 

Anyway, June 11th will be Dennis Gulling's chance for real to read from his book for the first time to an audience. We have scheduled a book release party for The Blood Dark Sea at J.R. Kortman Center for Design in Rockford, Illinois. All the writers from The Rock River Literary Series will be reading that night, including myself. I suppose I also have to host, but I can't even start stressing out about that yet. Here is the event page for The Blood Dark Sea Book Release Party on Facebook, and you can like ZLP while you're there. I've put quite a cramp in my back bending over this contraption, and I think I'll finish my tea and go to bed. 

Todd Moore, The Founding Force of Outlaw Poetry, and Dennis Gulling's The Blood Dark Sea

Most people don't know this, even people sort of well-versed in the history of the small press, but Outlaw Poetry was started right here in the Rockford area. Belvidere to be exact. By an English teacher at Belvidere High School named Todd Moore. I read with Todd Moore several times, including one time in a basement in Stillman Valley with another legendary small press poet, Lyn Lifshin. he is one of the few poets I ever sent a fan letter to, and my geographical proximity had nothing to do with that. He was a revered small press poet, and probably had a better chance being recognized in Los Angeles than here in Rockford. Like virtually every small press poet I wrote to, including Charles Bukowski, he turned out to be friendly, encouraging, and took time to answer my questions about what it meant to be a small press poet.

Dillinger by Todd Moore

he made an impression on a great many prospective writers, including one of his students, Dennis Gulling. So much so that Dennis became a sort of protege of Todd Moore, and began writing his own impressive Outlaw Poetry during high school. For nearly thirty years he has been quietly compiling some of the most impactful poetry of anyone writing in the Midwest. Because of his reclusive nature this has gone unnoticed to many. But those who know speak the name of Dennis Gulling with a respect and appreciation for his canon of work.

Now, for the first time, his poetry has been collected into a full-length book of poems, The Blood Dark Sea. The selections were made by Dennis Gulling himself, and compiled and published by Zombie Logic Press, also of Rockford, Illinois. I am, in fact, the editor of that book, Thomas L. Vaultonburg, and I can report the more I read these poems, and I believe I may have read them more than anyone else on Earth, besides Dennis Gulling, the more I am convinced this is a tour de force of not only Outlaw Poetry, but poetry itself. 

I start out this sequential set of poems from The Blood Dark Sea with the poet's own ode to his mentor, Todd Moore. 

SOMETHING FOR TODD

The words poured off him like water

Through a broken dam

I was sucked

Into the flood

Clear and cold

Held under by its weight

And I’ve been

Drowning ever since

Diving deeper

Into the darkness

HOW I LOST $10

Bill Quincer banged on

My back door with a towel

Wrapped around one hand

Said he’d cut off

A finger with his band saw

And wanted me to drive

Him to the hospital

On the way over

He took a bloody handkerchief

From his shirt pocket

Held up the finger

And said

What’ll you give me

If I walk into the emergency room

With this thing up my nose?

 TRENCH COAT

The guy in the trench coat

Paced back and forth

Outside Goodman’s Cafeteria

With his hands pushed

Deep in his pockets

Putting his face to the window

Every few minutes

Until he fell back suddenly

Into the shadows

As a guy in a leather jacket

Came out the door and started

Down the street

Trench coat stepped out

Of the darkness

And said a man’s name to his back

Leather jacket turned around

And his eyes got big

He made a run for it

While a pointy bulge

Appeared in trench coat’s right pocket

Something popped

And leather jacket was pasted

To the air just for a second

Then he started walking

Like the sidewalk had melted

Did that for a few yards

Then stopped in his tracks

In front of Greenberg’s Variety

His legs jackknifed at the knees

And he went over sideways

Between 2 parked cars

Trench coat’s giggle

Was broken glass in the night

He danced a little jig

Then walked the other way

SHE SHOT HIM

She shot him

In the head 3 times

Then chopped his fingers off

With a hatchet

And put them in her purse

Beside chewing gum

Kotex and keys

Later

At the Hoot ‘n’ Holler Café

She dropped a thumb

In an ashtray

Next to a smoking butt

And laughed

All the way out the door

EVIL

A voice in his head

Told him his index finger

Was evil

So he took a ginsu knife

And cut it off

Then he left the house

Until the evil could

Run out the open end

His wife came home

From the grocery store

And dropped her bag of stuff

When she saw all the blood

On the kitchen counter

Then noticed the finger

On the floor pointing toward

The front door like it was saying

He went that-a-way