Geer Austin

March 9, 2016

You don’t exist, but I guess if I thought
hard enough, I could conjure you up.
You’d be too young for me, unchanged
since you wore Levis in a fancy hotel
or hailed a Checker on Tenth Avenue.
Or I might see you in a stranger’s face,
some dude with a lustrous black beard.
Beards are in style again; we are not.
I’m not making this up. You still live
in the gait of a boy descending a theater aisle,
a distance runner trapped in air conditioning.
And when we cohabit in the instant
lit only by white titles on a black screen
your electric arm snakes around somebody else.

Geer Austin is the author of Cloverleaf, a poetry chapbook from Poets Wear Prada Press. His poetry and fiction has appeared in anthologies, print and online journals including Big Bridge, Colere, This Literary Magazine, Potomac Review, and BlazeVOX. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and was the editor of NYB, a New York/Berlin arts magazine. He leads writing workshops for underserved populations through New York Writers Coalition. He lives in New York City.

What motivates him to create:
What started me writing was the desire to write well, like the authors of books I loved reading. What makes me continue might be a compulsion. Is there a Creative Personality Disorder? I find inspiration everywhere and try to distill experience on the page.