CarryAway Seeds
By Scott Vanya
()
About this ebook
For a while, I had been writing (by hand) in large journals, by that I mean inches (height-by-width). And I noticed, my lines would stretch on, and my ideas would bend and shape and curve around the page, my audience, and my mind.
So taking it as a challenge/experiment, I set myself to working in a small journal, to see what the result might be, objectively like a scientist (much of my education is in physics).
The result are the CarryAway Seeds. These were to be small ideas, encapsulated, crystalline, transparent, the kind you put in your pocket and "CarryAway" with you and you with them. Then days later, perhaps when it were raining or sad, look at them, remember, feel them, like a worry stone in your hand, and know that there are people who care, whether we see them or not.
The CarryAway Seeds, were and do grow in ones heart. Like gems, or geods (as he mentions) and they are comforting and calming- tea ceremony on a rain day, embrace by someone we have not seen in a long time.
Take them to your lips, sip gently, be refreshed. And know, KNOW like you KNOW you exist, there is some kind person some where, just inside the door way of our lips, who loves us.
Peace.
Scott Vanya
I've been writing for a very long time, what seems like my whole life, taking it seriously from the time I was about 11. Now, at 46, I think I may be starting to get the hang of it: Say what you feel, as passionately as you can, but always with an ear turned to those who are listening.Most of my more serious work is done at live performances, which i do totally extemporaneously, channeling the mood of the room as my fingers play on the guitar. You can see some of that if you go to "my" website. (Open Mics Austin is a platform I created to showcase the Spoken Word scene here in Austin, TX. Only a small role in which i play.)As far as I can tell what makes good writing is LOVE. Love ,plainly simply, and with no strings attached.I put these words/books before you, not so much because I want something back from it, because I think and feel like I feel my bones and my soul, if you were to see the world, experience it like it do, for even a brief moment, you would walk away from that happier, more alive, compassionate and in tune with all those around you.Peace, good will, and harmony. Let those be your guiding light.Agape forever,Scott VanyaPublication Credits:Stepping Stones Magazine, The Main Street Rag, www.carcinogenicpoetry.com, Texas Art Initiative, Phoenix New Life Poetry, Walt’s Corner, Manna, Perigee, Chicago Literary Review, Mobius, Cosmic Trend, Pitchfork, Romantics Quarterly, Artisan, Pegasus, The Neovictorian, Red Owl, The Story Teller, The Blind Man's Rainbow, Atlantic Pacific Press
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CarryAway Seeds - Scott Vanya
Feast
after smashing my clock
with my 10 oz hammer
he wore as hair ornaments
nothing but gears, springs
and hands.
in fact if you looked closely
his entire head was a shattered clock
plastic, stem, and glass.
Only functional in that when he spoke
his tongue ticked out the time
upon his teeth.
From a different angle, that is behind
his head,
You could see he was rolling out paper
at a furious rate
both news and artwork, publishing.
the view should be one of peace
embodied or abstracted
we imagine the same race - neverworn.
How can the house become a Home
when the first things
I see
are the doorstep
Previous:Next
Between Chrysalis and Cocoon
Light has no last name
Verbosity sunshines afterthought
Today's brunch served between toast
rambling down the cheeks and throat
memories, soliloquy, salutations
the language from the other side
of the world
she is awakening to syrup's sound
As I cry
so too does the dandelion
offer its gift
Previous:Next
a haiku
tails and head sideways
rolling upon the sidewalk
caught in the minstrel's cup
...cup.
Previous:Next
for Rebecca B.
a white sphere
of chrysanthemum
inside a glowing ruby geod.
Previous:Next
The Sound of Water
Dry Bed unyet Moists
Cascade of Memory
The Shore's Relief
Impressions of a shell
Empty, Eaten, Cast Aside
Unforgotten by Someone
Whom goes unseen
even to the fully naked eye.
I see you standing
Limbs for hair
roots for toes
Squirming in the soil
She is a Chinese betty
I forgive myself the fantasy.
Previous:Next
Offshore her ship waits
ending fascinated by my yawn
shucks its husk
and cackles at my stretchings
blood dripping from my tongue
I have opened my own ambylical chord.
restitution calls me mad
for my freedom
so too does inspiration pardon
my rhythm
tomorrow's remembering beginning
the lines of the page kiss my inky
scribllings.
the hole in my ear has reclosed
and I