STAN WHITE

EDITOR'S NOTE:  The September 22, 2011 evening with poet Stan White was very well attended.  Bryan Prince Bookseller's  was well filled by an appreciative audience.



Jigsaw with Pieces Missing

I prefer a lone star on
a clear night where the
dark comes in slowly,

sprinkling the fields
with dusk, and Sirius,
with the fishes in the

pool, twinkles like a
pickerel's eye and day
hands off its petulance. This

evening, it happened while
I read your poem; the
failing light turned all the

page to words as though
a breakthrough might
reveal the heart of it—would

set us clear, would set us
free from all attachments, and
lost in the revealing dark I

stood beneath the willows
—still one bright star pointing
a bewildering direction.

SJW. 30 August 2000
12 noon.

STAN WHITE

Editor's Note:  Stan White will be reading from his work at Brian Prince Bookstore on September 22nd, at 7:30. He also will be projecting images as he reads his poem. All welcome.


Ten Green Bottles,

One was found on Calvary half-filled
with vinegar
another, came from Socrates
the dregs of hemlock
a third, with love-note, ship, and genie
owned by Sinbad,
the fourth, a small vial “Drink Me” left by Alice;
a fifth, keeps remnants of a Life’s Elixir;
and a sixth, the wine from
Days of Wine and Roses;
seven, a Brangaene potion
love-charmed Tristan und Isolda mad;
an eighth, found hidden ’neath a tapestry within
Lucretia’s house;
the ninth, holds Hyde and Jekyll’s formulae;
and the tenth and last, was used
to fill the Holy Grail

all left hanging on the wall.

SJW. 11 March 2001. 10:30 a.m.

STAN WHITE

Fallen Stars

Saturn is visible in the
west at dusk the tables
say. We see its pinpoint
yellow rising. But who’s
to say? Who tells? Who
turns the tables?
Three-quarters of our
world is hearsay. Maybe
more, untouchable and
once or twice removed;
known only by another’s
telling.
No way to touch the
striker of the bell or sight
the steeple.
What trust, what faith
 another’s truth is more
dependable than
our imaginings?

What might we think
the stars, without the
thought we think we
always know?
Realms have pyramided
on erroneous suns.

Strike the chains of
second-hand-me-downs
bright, fairy world.

SJW. 7 February 2001. 3:32 p.m.

Stan White reading his poetry at Tower Poetry Centre Book Launch

Stan White has written non-fiction all his life, and more recently, poetry and short stories. He has published books of poetry and his work appears in the usual literary anthologies and journals. He is retired and lives with his wife in Brantford, Ont.