This blog has been created as an open experiment of poetry composition, perhaps a glimpse at an emerging manuscript as it matures. This working manuscript should not be considered as complete or published. Instead, this should be viewed as merely an early stage in the process of creation.

I have placed below some of the pages from an isolated venture in one of my typescript loose-leaf folders. The contents here represent portions of an ongoing personal project with a particularly narrow focus intended to eventually develop toward a book-length poetry sequence with the tentative working title of

The poem will grow as new sections are added. The individual posts are designed so that they may be viewed as independent items; however, I have consciously carried themes, images, and similar language through the extended sequence with the hope that connectivity and continuity will be preserved among numerous sections of the long poem.

Readers are asked to regard this piece as a work in progress, a partial or rough draft rather than a finished product (even if some selected segments previously may have appeared in print), and I request everyone realize various edits, emendations, or expansion may be made to the posts at any time in the future. Moreover, at some point the entire sequence will be removed to undergo a complete revision.

Therefore, I urge visitors to become followers of the blog by clicking the link in the sidebar, as well as to follow on Twitter for updates. Readers are also invited to browse my personal web site for additional information.

Indeed, a significant part of this experiment involves a certain amount of transparency that includes the possibility for readers to communicate responses and offer constructive suggestions, both of which I welcome through post comments or e-mail messages.

Also, I advise that the order of the numbered sections is not meant to be at all definitive since the long poem’s sequence will certainly be reorganized as the work in this temporary format starts to resemble a completed manuscript and begins to assume a more formal shape that might eventually be suitable for publication. In fact, I welcome interest from book publishers as well.

Thank you for taking the time to examine this trial stage, a test which I perceive as a preliminary process in the composition of a possible poetry manuscript. —Edward Byrne

Tuesday, August 31, 2010


. . . . . XXI. Insomnia

After a month of drought, the August
. . . . . lawns burnt brown under bright sunlight,

a few weightless clouds now drift by
. . . . . in a late afternoon sky. Already, parched

leaves of our backyard trees have begun
. . . . . to turn; each curls like a crisp bit of paper

placed a little above a flickering candle
. . . . . flame. My son shades his eyes to glimpse

the horizon, as if again awaiting tints
. . . . . he sees every evening hinting at the finish

of one more day. In his mind, Alex is
. . . . . measuring time by charting the sun’s arc,

tracing its rate of descent beyond far
. . . . . lines of black trees, marking this brilliant

vision of backlit landscape to recall all
. . . . . these details in the darkest hours of night,

when he will fear the sounds he hears
. . . . . in dry winds blowing outside his window,

hoping to remember even those distant
. . . . . stones glowing like embers in a dying fire.

Thursday, August 19, 2010


. . . . . XX. Beneath Leaf Shadow

My son sits on one of the cement
. . . . . benches beneath bulky shadows

of park oaks, again awaits the late
. . . . . flash of sunlight that will angle

below those long lower branches
. . . . . like a white page of stationery

secretly slipped under someone’s
. . . . . shut door. Leaves flutter above

like black moths with each breeze.
. . . . . Alex enjoys the way he seems

to disappear in the darker corridor
. . . . . of shade, as though no one will

know he’s still there, staying safely
. . . . . away from sight like some young

thrush tucked into its nest, just
. . . . . knotted twigs, or as a cold hand

is hidden in the pocket of an old
. . . . . coat, hoping for more warmth.