Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director and worked as an art dealer when he couldn't earn a living in the theater. He has also been a tennis pro, a ditch digger and a salvage diver. His chapbook 'Remembrance' was published by Origami Condom Press and 'The Conquest of Somalia' was published by Cervena Barva Press. A collection of his poetry 'Days of Destruction' has been published in 2009 by Skive Press. Another collection 'Expectations' is being published by Rogue Scholars Press. His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway and toured colleges and outdoor performance venues. He currently lives in New York City, where he's busy writing. His poetry and short stories have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. Songs of a Clerk, an unpublished collection of poetry, expresses the frustration of a young man trapped in a menial clerks job, while dreaming of a meaningful life.

Four Poems (October 20, 2009. Issue 10.)

Terminal Leave

I sit quietly at my desk,
do they think I’m working?
A mad bomber,
poems in pocket
lusting to explode.
The coffee bell rings twice,
salivate, salivate.
While the long line forms,
I slip an incandescent poem
into the coffee urn of atonement
and watch my co-workers burn their mouths,
drop their cups,
melt away.

Hold Out

The city wanderer
courses the subway crush,
the shoppers flow,
with a nine to five soul.
Body trapped by office walls,
awaits with secret hope
the moment of breakout.

Retirement II

Dave leaves today.
Tired Dave.
Machine of strange hunger,
sucking the last juices
from a weary old man.
He makes bad jokes:
“This priest you see,
he had a good-lookin’ blonde
in the choir….”
Old Dave
home to unkind hearth,
hating his wife, idleness,
the mystery that stole his youth.

Overseer

There is a lady in a lake
somewhere, an affluence, a sleep,
a last forgetting without greed.
She rises from the shining water
as magical as ancient myths.
She cries:
“Oh my spirit slumbering brother,
it’s morning. Awake.”
And I,
up ‘til now unstirring,
turn restlessly at my desk,
as the glass and concrete voice
of the servant of Pharaoh
halts my escape
and sends my dream
crashing at my feet.