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    Quiet on the Outside
    Quiet on the Outside
    Quiet on the Outside
    Ebook134 pages28 minutes

    Quiet on the Outside

    By Kevin J. O'Conner

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    About this ebook

    Quiet on the Outside... is Kevin J. O'Conner's fourth collection of poetry. This time around, the poems are a mix of autobiography, observations of the world, dreams, whimsy, and exploration of short forms. O'Conner still employs a straightforward approach to tone and language, but works with an expanded palette.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKevin J. O'Conner
    Release dateJul 2, 2015
    ISBN9781311771681
    Quiet on the Outside
    Author

    Kevin J. O'Conner

    Kevin J. O’Conner (56) is not your typical poet. After 30 years of writing only sporadically, Kevin J. O’Conner returned to poetry in 2013—first as a creative exercise, then for the therapeutic benefits. Since 2015, he writes every day, exploring the craft of poetry through monthly writing challenges—‘my ongoing effort to write something that doesn’t sound like something I would write’, he says. Kevin’s poems explore isolation, memory, life’s small moments, and the experience of starting over at ‘a certain age’—always with an emphasis on straightforward expression. As of Spring 2019, Kevin has published eleven collections of poems, the latest of which is WISHES SOMETIMES HAVE CONSEQUENCES, plus four volumes of ‘love notes’ to the days of the week. His poems have also appeared in Raven Chronicles, Spindrift, The CDC Poetry Project, Lament for the Dead, and the anthology VOICES THAT MATTER, and as part of the Clay? VI (2016) exhibit at Kirkland Arts Center. When not writing poetry, Kevin can be found copy-editing documents from far-flung places, attending open-mic readings, designing books, and contemplating what to cook now that he is tired of soup. He lives in Bellingham with his mom's neurotic cat, Cleo III. (updated 28 October 2019)

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      Book preview

      Quiet on the Outside - Kevin J. O'Conner

      AUTOBIOGRAPHY

      SUNDAY MORNINGS AT GRANDMA’S HOUSE

      Coffee with jersey milk

      and toast straight from the oven

      Crumbs floating in the coffee

      after I dunk my toast

      The taste of soggy burnt toast

      with butter and cinnamon sugar

      Never wanting to leave

      this warm, sunny kitchen

      I DON’T GO FISHING ANYMORE

      I used to like fishing

      when I didn’t catch a thing

      Casting the line

      waiting

      enjoying the relative quiet

      of the lake

      Then came the day

      I got a bite

      and I had to kill the fish

      THE UNEXPECTED AFTERMATH OF A MISHEARD CONVERSATION

      In the haze and confusion

      came the kiss

      I was so thirsty

      The rest of the summer was a blur

      of restaurants and night life

      and melancholy music

      It couldn’t last

      I was not prepared

      for the places it was taking me

      With distance

      came clarity

      and a definite end

      Feelings lingered

      but I knew it was right

      It was never going to last

      I HAVE PROBLEMS WITH PHILOSOPHY

      Oh, in small doses it’s all right

      but some philosophers take things too far

      I was fine with Nausea

      but Being and Nothingness?

      I have a feeling Sartre loved the sound of his own voice

      above everything else

      Either way

      that’s six months of my life I’ll never get back

      and I still got no answers

      (that I could use)

      After that

      I decided it was pointless

      to look further

      A SCENE FROM NOVEMBER 1991

      For a brief moment

      I found myself on the wrong train

      heading in the opposite direction

      I had visions of missing my friend at the station

      and having to figure out another way

      to navigate unfamiliar streets

      in a town I had visited before

      but never seen very much of

      As the last car of the adjacent train

      went past the window

      the platform came into view

      I realized that we hadn’t been moving at all

      I breathed a sigh of relief

      and opened the can of coffee

      I bought from the vending machine

      before boarding

      ONE OF THOSE SMALL MOMENTS THAT COME BACK AS RANDOM MEMORIES

      I remember the smart young woman in the first car of the subway. She usually had a little too much blush, and wore what we referred to as an eggshell skirt (because of its shape—it was a pencil skirt).

      She was always alone. I assumed she

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