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Gigs
I’ve known his leaps listed in whiskey;
his lounge amid halts and hires,
where the pick wears his thumb like a nail,
he stays the bone in smoke-skin from barlights
(the oils and guitar-tanned ears of an audience),
dolling in the world like wist and welt,
and flit his night on a willing gig-
Now every belt on every midnight swerves
songward,
moving like a lilly in a dog’s mouth.
Ray Succre is 30 and currently lives in Coos Bay, Oregon, a small, coastal town
where art is sparse and, when it does exist is of a general relation to driftwood, deer,
dying romance, or various maritime subjects. He has tried to leave the town numerous times.
He is married, has just become a father, and loves the south coast. He writes each day and
is very driven to better himself and his work. In addition to poetry, short stories, and
essays, he pretends also to be a novelist and is an avid loiterer in restaurants. He
is between dishwasher jobs and is currently a stay-at-home dad, which he loves dearly.
His poetical fugue theory has been published in several publications and has appeared
in the 5th International Anthology of Paradoxism, and his work has also appeared in
The Book of Hopes and Dreams, an anthology out of Scotland. Ray has published hundreds
of poems in publications spanning England, Ireland, Scotland, India, Canada, Finland,
Singapore, Wales, New Zealand, Italy, Australia, Germany, Israel and throughout the
United States, as well as in many online magazines. He is also a winner of the Adroitly
Placed Word Award, for spoken word.
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