From Maspeth to Montauk And Beyond

Last week I received such a great surprise! At my P.O. Box, there was the Book sent by Tammy Nuzzo-Morgan from The North Sea Poetry Scene.

As Tammy explains in the Executive Editor`s Note "This Volume is the third year of our annual annual anthology. We have 132 poets, 122 are from Long Island, 7 from other states in the Union and 3 from other countries: Panama, Wales, and Canada."

I see the sense of community and closeness in the diversity of the Poets, Long Islanders or not.

Among the authors we find Dr. David B. Axelrod, Stanley H. Barkan, Diana Barker, Cliff Bleidner, Edward Boccia, David Cain (Bard), Vincent Clemente, Jonathan Cohen, Lynn Cohen, Peter V. Dugan, David E. Egan, Johanne Farmer (Veroflame), Leonard Greco, Peter Thabit Jones, Lynn Kozma, Fred Kramer (Cairnwell), Mindy Kronenberg, Maria Manobianco, Haim Mizrachi, Richie Narvaez, Paddy Noble, Tammy Nuzzo-Morgan, Allen Planz, Julie Sheehan, Mario Susko, Marilan Tinajero (Womanly River), the unforgettable JOHN HALL WHEELOCK (1886-1978) and many, many other talented poets, old and new, all please excuse me if I didn`t mention you all!

The Panama Guy in the book is me, Edilberto Gonzalez-Trejos, and I feel grateful for that. Among the poems of my authorship are found THE INVISIBLE MENACE and THE STREAMS OF OBLIVION, as well as MET and CRATEROUS HIBERNATION.

Next I Will share a brief sample of the Poetry in this Book. If you are interested in having more information you can contact Tammy directly at [email protected] or at

The North Sea Poetry Scene Press
33 Woods Lane
Southampton, NY 11968

(Add United States of America, if ouside said country) -

OUR WEDDING - David B. Axelrod

I will be your cradle
and you a passage
for an eternal child.

There is a flower
girl offering baby`s
breath and roses.

A dance offers
a fiddle and chance
to laugh.

JOURNEY THROUGH INNER SPACE - Cliff Bleidner

I won`t find angels in graves
I won`t find god in caves
But I did dig down
deeper and deeper
uncovering monstruous creature
after creature
breaking through the floor
of layer
after layer
of pain and trauma
to find at the core
the big one at the bottom
once through that by way of acceptance
I pass by my childhood toys
to dive into that
warm red flowing river
becoming soluble in it
being it.

IN THE END IS THE WORD - Edward Boccia

Because roses thorn into metaphors,
the poet blindfolds himself
and reaches out, writing
until his fingers bleed,
until his hands cut loose
of his wrists,
his arms pulling out their sockets,
every part of his body breaks off
and flies away into the mysteries
aware that verse,
when it soars,
sings all those body-parts back
not into the human form the poet
had before, but into the spirit
of his poems.

SALTY LANGUAGE - David Cain (Bard)

Thundering mumbling tide
silvery knots of wash.
I huddle and swill rum in
cavernous grottos echoing with
the ancient curses
and muttered oaths
of sailors from Phoenicia
to Nantucket,
auguries of isles, winds,
stars and tempests,
Secret whispers of treasures

every dream that dared
to cross the water in a shell.


How long can you swim

puny sperm


when a world of water
comes crashing down
in the howling dark?

I was born to die in the sea

I was born to die in the sea

JUDGEMENT DAY - Vincent James Carbone

I stand before you
offering the ruins of my past.

Skin scarred
stretched over aching muscle
latched to bone.

Take what you will
for now this body is yours.

All I ask is be swift
as you aqueeze
fading whispers of life
from my lungs.

The trickle of my soul
will remind me
I am still human.