Tag Archives: poets

Silent Prayer

After writing two books—the first on philosophy, the second a collection of poetry—I see my writing in a new light. I am a better philosopher than a poet, and this is fine because I write always with the spirit of a poet. Blogs, emails, research papers. Even grocery lists.

I’m writing this now because I want to say what I truly am: a reader.

Yesterday my mother and I visited my father’s grave. She brought a book of prayers that bring her comfort. She insisted I read a prayer out loud, and I did because we both needed to hear it.

Afterwards my mother paused and turned to me. “You have always been a great reader, even as a child.” I took her at her word and said a silent prayer. At night I read a little Baudrillard and thought of this blog and the books I have written and the things I still want to say.

Have I ever written a word without reading it to myself first? Am I not my ideal reader?

A great writer is a patient reader who knows when to pause and see the world anew—not as it appears, but how it might have been, or how it will never come to be. A great writer erases him- or herself from the world word by word, offering a different version of events in which he or she has already disappeared, or never arrived.

Socrates, as envisioned by Plato, said philosophy is a preparation for death. Socrates wrote nothing down. He couldn’t see for himself that writing, too, is a preparation for death—that writing about the departed brings us closer to death.

Two interpretations among many: I went to read a prayer in a cemetery, but there was no sign of my father. Or it wasn’t clear I had read a prayer in a cemetery until I blogged about it here. All that remains of my father is a sign.

Until I die I will write, but not before reading every word back to myself—not to ensure clarity, but to suspend meaning, to render the world more enigmatic for those I’ll leave behind.

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Buy Nervous Lethargy Now

Buy my second book here.

Thank you to everyone who supports my writing. This was a fun process. Here is the Amazon product description:

“Poetry is the language of language.” So writes Charles B. Snoad in the introduction to Nervous Lethargy, a collection of poetry obsessed with the power of words. Snoad asks difficult questions about the nature of truth, the existence of God, the joys and frustrations of desire and falling in love, and the persistence of anxiety in today’s technology-driven global society. The highly sensitive, self-aware speakers in these poems take readers on an existential journey through tragedy, hope, and longing—attuned to the beauty and absurdity of modern life. That feeling when your head spins so fast you can’t get out of bed—this is Nervous Lethargy.

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Nervous Lethargy: Second Proof

My proof copy of Nervous Lethargy arrived the other day. It looks great, but I did make some changes. A second proof copy should ship today. Hopefully, I can go live next week.

The low-resolution image I was worried about looks fine. The spine displays the title and my name fine. Many of the changes I made were minor: some words needed hyphens; a word originally written as two words is actually one. I made a few capitalization errors.

There were two big issues I’ve now fixed. First, a word on the back cover was misspelled. My bad. Second, I wasn’t thrilled with the original pagination. In the first proof I started the first page of the introduction as Page 13, because there are 12 pages of front material. Now the 12 pages of front material have Roman numerals and page one of the introduction is Page 1. Honestly, the pagination process occupied a lot of my time, mostly because I want things to look right, even though the previous format is not wrong, just less common than including Roman numerals.

I must have read the whole book a thousand times. I’m sure next month or a year from now I’ll find something I could’ve changed, but overall I’m proud of my effort. At some point I have to let the book go and trust that I’ve done my best. We’re now one big step closer to the release.

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Poet Try

Performance Anxiety

it’s hard to love
from a distance
to dot your thighs
uncross your knees

to put into words
only what a quiver
or curled toes
might say

to write without thinking
a poet sharper than me
makes you hum
at a higher frequency

c b snoad
3-27-17

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Second Book In The Works

I am happy to announce that I have begun writing my second book. Last year I self-published The Intimacy of Communication: A Spiritual Encounter via CreateSpace, and I am using CreateSpace for book number two.

Nervous Lethargy is a collection of poetry from 2000 through today. Some of the poems have appeared here on Sharp Left Turns, but many have not. Still determining what to include and how to arrange them.

I’m excited about the process, and I want to thank my brother Tom Trebswether for “strongly suggesting” I publish a book of poems. More info to follow as I move through the process.

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Core Beliefs

Core Beliefs

my therapist says overthinking
can be a defense mechanism

overthinking can be
a defense mechanism

overthinking can be
an unfenced metaphorical prison

it’s not my fault
my therapist says

confessional poems
can be used against me

my therapist runs a mom & pop
Oedipal arrangements shop

with thirty-one flavors
of oral fixation lollipops

overthinking can be
a dense intellectual prism

a defense mechanism
defense mechanism

anxiety is a preexisting
human condition

paid for by a
state institution

my therapist ties
Freudian slip knots

to agoraphobics flying
kites in parking lots

it’s not my fault
it’s not my fault

I don’t believe
it’s not my fault

my therapist is the reason
I’m in touch with my feelings

c b snoad
2-13-17

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Star 69

phone-sex

the luscious lull that seeps through cellphone ear
zero-one zero-one
floating off Robotic Tonsil
up in throughout buzz-hum Fiber-Optic veins
running beneath these Sacred States—
I’ve called you
automated-voice-woman-drone
I need phone service missing dial-tone
or cable TV all fuzzed out
(I desire CNN this instant I must be informed this instant)
or demand faster internet access the Porn too slow to come
I need help now
you tell me press 1 for this or 2 for that then 5 for a repeat
submissive shit I follow
touch-toning my way to Digital Gratification
hungry for your binary-sex-speak
your zero-one zero-one sweet-nothing-vibes
I want to drop my khaki shorts & spread for you
have test-tube psychopath-introvert
(I’m not afraid are you afraid)
The first auto-child of Truth & Silicone
a sin-less pile of junk with no Unconscious Mind
but automated voice-woman-drone
I’ve called you
& you’ve like a Plastic Cock Tease placed me on hold
promising a representative will be with me shortly
my call as always important
my Satisfaction as always Guaranteed

c b snoad
published in Lynx Eye (spring 2002)
edit 2-5-17

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