FM Ghost [the book]

Dear friends and readers, I am beyond thrilled to announce the publication of my first book of poetry, FM Ghost. The paperback is available now via ALL CAPS PUBLISHING. Order your copy here.

Most of you are by now familiar with the tone and style of my writing, but here is a preview of the book: “FM Ghost is a poetic journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance. With a heavy theme of mortality, this debut collection by Denver poet Steve Shultz is both introspective and observational. The book’s three sections – Within, Without, and Within (revisited) – explore themes of darkness and light, love and fear, hope and despair, grief and joy, life and death. FM Ghost is about striking a balance in a world of opposites.”

FM Ghost

I’d like to give a huge thank you to Marian at ALL CAPS for having me aboard. Here’s what she has to say about FM Ghost: “ALL CAPS is beyond pleased to announce the publication of FM Ghost, a substantial (despite its title, heh) poetry collection from rock-star poet and journalist Steve Shultz. please join us in congratulating Steve by clicking and picking up your copy. if it helps, reading Steve’s poems totally ups your coolness factor. check it out!” You can read more from Marian at Runaway Sentence.

Thanks for reading!

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Subsisting Digits

I am hacking off my fingers & thumbs,
extremities of

avarice,
self-doubt,
ill-will,
indifference,
worry,

severing subsisting digits
of

distraction,
complacency,
arrogance,
negativity,
fear.

Not so that I may no longer
form fists,

but rather that I may let go
of these hands
holding me back. And down.

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Knife in My Ribs

I’m feeling pressure,
I’m feeling knife tip
between my ribs

feeling like my
heart & lungs
are too big for my chest

or maybe my cage is getting smaller

it didn’t use to be this way;
things were so much simpler.
where did I go wrong?

I take deeper breaths now.
I go for walks
& meditate, but

mostly I just think
about what was
& what will be

and wonder what it is I should be learning from all this

tension;
stress;
anxiety.

my cage, it’s getting smaller.
what put the fear inside of me?

I want to change the way I think & speak.

I want to know
how to let go
& accept this pain

when it insists on staying.

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N.L.W.

It’s been six days since you left.
I don’t know what you were going through;
I hadn’t seen you in years.
I mostly remember playing Nintendo
in the basement of your folks’ house
on Deframe,
watching movies together
or playing in your neighborhood.

That was more than 20 years ago.
Our parents, the best of friends
for much longer than that.

I do know you were loved,
and will be missed immensely.
There is a hole now in many hearts
that can never be filled in.
I don’t know what other words to write,
other than:
Rest in peace, old friend,
may you find a better place.

In memory of N.L.W.
April 20, 1979-April 21, 2013

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Fishnets

I wonder
what that
little goth boy
would think of me now

pale-faced
beanpole
black corduroys
fishnets
nails painted black

a teenaged me
sucking cigarettes

what would he think
of an aging Trent Reznor?
Arcade Fire?
new Skinny Puppy?

meh, who cares

I’m over 30 now
and already thinking
goddamn kids these days
have no good taste

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Low Blood Sugar

12th & Dahlia,
Lindsley Park.
sunbathing.
basking in God’s glories.
for He has many names,
& many faces.
manifests Herself in
strangest damn places.

like this bottle of orange juice
I so thoughtfully
tucked into my backpack.

natural,
sugary sustenance
nursing me back
to some version of normal.
diminishing my
disorientation.

I am not ready.

living with this disease
but at least
I am still living.

I am not ready to give up.

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