Dreamers' Songs: Nancy Bevilaqua's Poems

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Tag: spirituality


It’s when you don’t think–
in the hands of the One.
The church of everything–
it’s in the blues.

My Poem on Cafe Aphra

My poem “Night Gathering”, which is part of a series of poems entitled Gospel (to be published as a chapbook some time this year), is “Poem of the Month” for May on Cafe Aphra.  Here’s the link:


At Play

At Play

Scene brings together
all that we have found.

Webs gone full star, sparking strands
in the crabapple tree with sun behind
just before suppertime as I played
alone: I was seven, earth
to sky, floating skin
of butterfly, each moment mine.

I knew my horses then, my horses
air and breath. They ate stillness
on the lawns, swallowed seas and came
with love to me and I was lifted along.

I made demands on clouds and they
I swear obeyed so that the rains came
when I called them. The tree
ignited; I was alone and it was all
I’d ever need to know before the shore
of time erupted and I was banished
from the house of leaves.

–Nancy Bevilaqua


An Interview With…Me

Poet “eLPy” just posted her interview with me on her website, Little Face Publications.  She asked some really great, insightful questions that were useful to me because they made me really give some serious thought to my poetry and how I work, my books, the way I’m raising my son, my relationship with my late father, and more!  She’s also got interviews of other poets, book reviews, and her own work on the site–it’s worth a visit!

Here’s the link:



(This is part of a chapbook entitled Gospel, which will be published within the year.)



He said, I lay

in city silences too: city

of antiquated dreams.

To the blind world

they answered. Just a memory

of the kind of world you live in,

somewhere under that sky.

Night and Morning Voice (Music)

Night and Morning Voice (Music)

I am music
outside your time
the time outside
not even eternal.

Just me,
and the petals now.


(For audio version please see next post.)

Morning Voice (Owls)

Morning Voice (Owls)


Nature’s rites wasting aground.

You grow while owls cry

like runaway foxes.


(For audio version, please see previous post.)

Haiku (Highway)–text

Haiku (Highway)

Highway mile away

truck shifts gears in moth-dance night–

my hitchhiker mind.


(You can hear the audio version in the next post.)

Morning Voice #2 (Transportation)


Morning Voice #2 (Transportation)

Waiting quietly in the woods…

Looking up at it–

Transportation for love.

The Game He Called “Glide Against the Sky”


The Game He Called “Glide Against the Sky”
(from Gospel)

Lust at the edge of nothing. Steps along
the parapet: no future tense, stillness
oceanic. Gravity in black fields
of granite spheres and starry core itself
sucked upward at your skull, your singing

blood, your own core, your fear. Renegade
between your knees to whom you’d whispered,
Esa, I will learn discomfort for you,
borrow from your restless dream, alongside,
guiding, pleased. You found your nature gone

to sea, convalescing memories toys
dropped from dirty fingers. You’d never had
a moment’s faith. No matter. Look up, he said.
Scan the universe for simple signs. There is nothing
to believe, but flowers in their need trust sky.


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