a book of break down
An exceptionally compatible marriage lasts for several years and then inexplicably and without warning seems to fall apart. Stephen Bett narrates his own journey of stunned and bewildering pain as the language of poem after poem in this "serial" book of poems shows increasing rupture and fragmentation. Stephen Bett, one of the more recognised of the "minimalist" poets writing in English today, traces the breaking of heart and language in this stunning book of poems. Language at its most naked and vulnerable.
"In Penny-Ante Poems, Stephen Bett painfully confronts and disrupts the romanticism of modern day love. What remains of the self when myths are suddenly and inexplicably evaporated? In this startling collection lovers' dialogue dissolves into hoarse soliloquies. Each poem strips itself to the tender bones, metaphor is brutally denuded, and language is reduced to fraught stammer. Bett unravels the atoms of speech to uncover a new voice that coalesces desire and loss. Into a new (w)hole, he speaks to his own echoes."
Orchid Tierney
"You can write. And whatever shakes loose between you and [her], this interlude has enabled a part of your identity to fly. This, what you are engaged in, is bigger than you and [her]. It's a leap on the path of what Jung called individuation, and it's all yours.
"You are on what first nations call a vision quest. Track the process and trust the signs. Look for totems. All decisions must come from the biggest part of yourself...in the epic form [this trilogy of books] you are living.
Michael Kenyon (poet, novelist, editor, therapist)
Sample Poems
Penny-Ante Poems 6 : torture
I swear, said Orpheus
Â
middle of the night
half awake / asleep
I heard her call
my name
(solicitous
(from way
beyond
The wait --
the Waiting
that doesn't
stop to rest
     -- the Wait
for her to return
from where
her mind
is hurt
(my gentle
love)
is Torture
Penny-Ante Poems 32 : a response (pre-court)
Finally, after weeks --
a response
I stand accused
of neglecting
her (for late
nite poems)
I plead
not guilty
Old story
dead &
buried
Hasn't
let go
Here's
another
sincere
apologia
Pls let go --
Here -- I
apolo'gise
once a'gen
I would
give up
my songs
for you
(for you)
Throw away
my pen, my
key'board
just hold on
to you for
song
Sometimes I feel
you bin
abducted
by aliens
(alien
cult?)
You are my
Belle, I
will not
surren'der
mine heart
beats for
you
Run deeper
than the
langue
Penny-Ante Poems 45 : only role left
Everyone say
Orpheus / Belle
(Belle / Orpheus)
-- marriage fr.
Paradiso
Current domicile
sep. cells
(Inferno)
You are in
pain, know
love
(weep for
you)
And am not
the mover
(mouth
clos'd)
Giddy
(manic?)
yr temp.
relief com
eth before
the wall
I will pick up
pieces
(for love)
Be your
love
(for love)
Be lost, hurt
(for love)
Be yr str
ength
(for love)
Be yr love
(a'gen for
love)
Only role
left is
love
Penny-Ante Poems 70 : mortar in my eyes
A bad
day
to'
day
(tell
me
an
other
one!)
You
are
angry
w/ the
wrong
per
son
I am
the
only
love
note
of
yr
gor
ge
ous
lone
ly
song
Stop
this
(pls
pls
-- in
sis
tent!)
But
you
cant
you
don't
know
how
to
switch
it
off
&
don't
know
where
or
why
It
isn't
me
in
side
yr
head
Only
one
who
ever
lov'd
u
for
yr
self
&
not
yr
bod
y
And
still
do
des
pite
yr
mis
plac'd
ang'r
&
des
truc
tion
I weep
for
me,
I long
for
you
want
you
back
(ho
em)
I don't
even
care
if
only
in
piec
es
I will
build
you
a'
gen
There
is
mor
tar
in
my
eyes,
I
can
see
the
job
re
quir
ed
I will
bld
you
as
gd
as
u
did
yr
self
&
give
u
all
the
cre
dit
(my
Bel
fast
Belle)
Penny-Ante Poems 71 : waitress at the Sunset Grill
Went for
3rd time
this
month
w/ my
old
tea
cher
to
"our"
wkly
pub
Wait
ress
sd
well
where's
yr
gor
geous
wife?
Left
me
(I
sd)
Up
&
run
a'
way
Men-o
pause
she
answer
ed
(pron
to)
Never
seen
a hap
pier
more
com
pat
ible
coup
le
in
my
en
tire
life
(Me
too
sd
my
teach
er)
She
'll
be
hat
ing
her
self
when
she
wakes
up 2
the
hurt
she's
put
you
thru
(how
many
wks?)
What
if
she
does
n't
wake
up??
Not
just
men
- o -
pause
but
ser
- i -
ous
anxi
ety
dis
order
&
she's
off
her
medsÂ
God
damn
my
life
to
Hell
these
m'nths
now
(Hades
Cell)
God
damn
no
sui
cide
gene
for
the
hurt
(that
com's
in
waves
of
pan
ic)
Ever
- y -
one
in
our
lit
tle
tiny
w'rld
knows
she's
ill
&
shld
not
be
spit
ting
me
wet
Ex
cept
her
(who
I
can
nev
er
do
any
thing
but
love
in
re
turn
for
what
she's
giv'n
me
4
all
thees
stun
ning
yrs)Â
Penny-Ante Poems 73 : be grateful
Oh, & by
the way
never
(ever)
stoop
to the lev
el of
blam
ing her
She was
behind
the 8 ball
most of
her life
& still
mana
ged to
make
some
thing
gorg
eous &
coura
geous
of her
self
Give
hon
our
to that
(self)
& be
grate
ful
YOU
were
the love
of her
life
All of
YOU --
full
stop