Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    
Profile image

Christopher Anthony Leibow

Updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2011 02:42 pm

caleibow@gmail.com

www.psychologyofsex.wordpress.com

Contact via WOL logo

Biography

Christopher Anthony Leibow has been published in Interim, Juked, Cricket Online Review, Bello Magazine and others. Being a poet, he has needed to find ways to make a living. He has worked as a dishwasher, a shoes salesman, a driver, a security guard, a bouncer, a mental institution orderly, a file clerk, a shipping clerk, traveling salesman and a corporate trainer. He lives with his ADHD cat Mr. Handsome.

Samples

IT DIDN'T TAKE LONG It didn’t take long for every thing to change from the way it was before. This is not surprising to you but to other’s they are taken away by the very nature of the change or maybe just the very nature of change. Maybe it is the way words once spoken lose their direction, especially the pronouns. There is the anxiousness of each “We” that leaves each mouth or the furtive “I”s and “You”s, and how once spoken they fly to the nearest streetlight and tremble ill at ease. You try to speak to your lover but she can’t hear the words that you speak, like you are miming your heart. And you are troubled by the tears that rise like a tide of deep unconscious sighs, or by the blue silver smoke of a distant fire. She can hear your voice, but the words are no longer working, She can only hear the roar of dark sea beating against an abandoned pier reaching out into a salt lashed wind. SHE LEAVES ME SMALL GIFTS for Shay. She leaves me small gifts, a strand of tangled red hair in an unmade bed, a bobby pin hidden under a bedside table. She leaves me the roses, now brown, in the vase by the window that watch for her return. She leaves me numbered kisses, left on wineglasses or pillows and bed-sheets, on morning light and the tick of the clock, on my skin, the greater ones stinging a little like too much time in the sun, or too little time spent, like a poorer man, on the things he hungers for. THE INVENTION OF JOY What day was it that God created bird song? And on that day did the throats of the first birds who sang, bleed just a little bit? Was it on that same day that joy was invented? Or that flight became the home of all those who sing? Or did the first birds tremble anxious because of what came out from their small bodies did they fear stopping as if the world would cease turning? Or did they fly higher and higher singing louder and louder till they fell back to earth exhausted? And was it on that day that the first falling stars came tumbling out of the first evening sky for all of us to make wishes upon?

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Audio entries by Christopher Anthony Leibow

The Station (18/08/2011)

Homecoming (18/08/2011)

She Leaves Me Small Gift (18/08/2011)

This Thing (17/08/2011)

Summer 1968 (17/08/2011)

Harpo (17/08/2011)

Cienfuegos Cigar Company (17/08/2011)

Dominga Corazon (17/08/2011)

Her Subtle Lean Left (16/08/2011)

Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.

Comments

<Deleted User> (7075)

Mon 22nd Aug 2011 10:33

Hi Christopher, welcome to WOL. I have enjoyed listening to a few of your audios this morning. Win

View all comments

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message