Publisher's Synopsis
Graces For The Wonder is an astonishing collection of rg cantalupo's award-winning poems from 1978-2023. It includes such poems as The Art of Poetry, Walking Water On Earth, Involving Residence, The God Box, and many other memorable and deeply-moving poems.
Cantalupo is not only a poet, but also a playwright, filmmaker, novelist, and director. His work has been published widely in literary journals in the United States, England, and Australia.
His books include The Light Where Shadows End, Kill Today, So Tomorrow Will Not Come, You Don't Know Me, Involving Residence, No Thanks, Walking Water On Earth, The Art of Naming, Graces For The Wonder, A Red-Starred Gold Flag Flutters In the Wind, The Last Strigoi, and The Endurance: Journey To Worlds End.
He served with the 25th Infantry Division as an RTO (radio operator), for an infantry company from 1968-69 and received three purple hearts and a Bronze Star with a Combat V for Valor Under Fire.
His books can be purchased through New World Publishers or the author at rgcantalupo@gmail. com
the way the white lines, the fissures of ice, the made structure itself disappears inside the silent
depths. Or perhaps the way the wind dies down to a muffled growl as we slip inside the white
skin of bear, the belly of the moon; or the way we are left then with only language, our voices
heard in this white dome of the cosmos, our stories flickering in the fire; left with only these
shadows written on the walls of snow: Here the trick of permanence, there the illusion of stilled
water, the gift of holding river and storm quiescent in the rough texture of our hands. No day now.
No night. The vast turquoise sky not changing to a black mask pricked with eyes. Out of the flames
gods come, spirits, ghosts bearing visions and old battles. Out of the white nothing, we create the
living light, the universe of blood, a new world. Walking Water on Earth Each day I do this. I open their mouths, lift
up their silent tongues, and slide my foot inside
like a wordless prayer. I do this as I've always done,
as my father did, as my brother does, tying together the days
from here to there, from my eight year-old red racers to my
olive-drab jungle boots spattered with lives. I do this
famed or unknown, loved or unwanted, whether I'm walking
in my garden or along the jetty. I do, do and do, not stopping
till I'm done, holding my shoes like tiny horses in my hands,
pulling their reins tight, and then letting them go, letting
them take me where they will. I do this without knowing,
unafraid that I cannot see far ahead, perhaps only a
few steps--from here to the kitchen, from here to the
door and out onto the black rivers of the world,
walking water on Earth, each day a parable of where
I've been. When I Leave I'll leave quietly
Like frost from a blade of grass. I'll pack my words in my guitar case
beside letters from my brother and my son, and walk toward the highway
searching for the path through my name. One day when I'm gone,
my words will return to you. You'll hear them calling
in the cricket's trill. You'll hear them calling
walking home in the dark.
