Esteban Colon
CONTACT:
Email: esteban_colon@yahoo.com
Linktree: https://linktr.ee/EstebanColon
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00MS1VX3M
Instagram: instagram.com/estecologne
BIO:
Esteban Colon is an experiential educator and a Kenosha Poet Laureate Emeritus (2018-2019). A co-founder of The Waiting 4 the Bus Poetry Collective, he has co-hosted, organized and performed in a variety of poetry open mics and showcases along with workshops and even stranger poetry events. His work has found print in a variety of anthologies (including but not limited to: Revise the Psalm, works inspired by the writing of Gwendolyn Brooks; Prairie Gold, An Anthology of the American Heartland; and Nuclear Impact, Broken Atoms in our Hands ) and journals (including but not limited to Rhino, After Hours, and Kweli).
PUBLICATIONS:
Hell Creek (2020) a collection of paleontological poetry and photos (available @ www.etsy.com/shop/estepoetry)
Whispered 'Soliloqueys' (late 2019) Black-Eyed Press LLC, A Hand folded collection of poetic broadsides (available from esteban_colon@yahoo.com)
This Frankenstein Union (2015) Crisis Chronicle Press, a chapbook of poetry (available @ http://ccpress.blogspot.com/2015/11/CC75Colon.html also available on Amazon)
Things I Learned the Hard Way (2014) Plain View Press, A full length collection of poetry ( available @ https://plainviewpress.com/product/things-i-learned-the-hard-way/ also available on Amazon, the library and assorted bookstores)
Between Blue Lines (2010) Exact Change Press, a chapbook collecting 40 pages of shorter work. ( limited availability @ esteban_colon@yahoo.com
Edgar Avenue (2009) Naked Mannequin, A chapbook containing a suite of interconnected poetic monologues (no longer available)
Before Dawn
Close eyes.
Feel the wind on arm hair.
Ears
perked at the tips, the
rattle of noisy wings, crackling like electricity for
smooth night unions, the
darkness
almost complete.
even
when eyes open.
Gaze upwards.
Let the same clouds who slinked away from the midday sun
(inviting his anger to broil your flesh red).
Tap dance around primordial light, a
million pinpricks reaching your eyes and
your grandfather’s eyes and
his grandfather’s eyes.
Close your eyes again.
Let the tall grass tug on your pants like a million needy children, too
small to play with one by one.
Walk off the deer path,
let the sounds of thorns trying to carve your legs remain sounds,
tall grass lay flat under foot, the
uneven ground demanding your
Midwest feet
shift/bend
to its will.
Open your eyes in the night,
to the sounds of howls, riding whipping winds,
the chill that falls into bones, the
way your skin slowly sinks
underfoot,
reminds you
you are
a part/
portion
of this night
this moment
of fragile infinities.
Poetry
Perspective
1. After Building Snow Forts, the boy comes inside
Cold touch, icicles
wrapped in flesh, just
warm enough not to freeze water
polar
opposite heat
emanating from furnace
open
flame.
He
sees them approach,
wrap
arms around him,
smiling
2. Final memories from Auschwitz
Cold touch, icicles
wrapped in flesh, just
warm enough not to freeze water
polar
opposite heat
emanating from furnace
open
flame.
He
sees them approach,
wrap
arms around him,
smiling