Lawrence J. Krips
Lawrence J. Krips moved to the shores of Rhode Island after spending almost thirty-five years in and around New York City. Larry has publicly read his works in both New York City and throughout Rhode Island. Larry’s musical group, "Mouthpeace" combines music with his poetry and has given several concerts.
He is also involved in Thunder and the Bird, his work accompanied by Stephanie Marisca playing the gongs. His book, A Soul's Way . . . Soulspeak, is available on CD. You may contact Larry at
► Larry's Origami micro-chapbooks & selected poems are available below.
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Origami Micro-Chapbook |
Selected Poem(s) |
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Cover Photo: John Boyce • |
{mooblock=With Bogie}
It seemed to never end,
his life, that is.
I dug his grave by a tree.
Ellen and I cried when the needle’s contents
took its effect.
He went to sleep after that one long labored breath
last year.
He kept getting the mail with me. I heard his paws clicking down the stairs then waiting by the door to run. He comes to me when I read. We look into the other’s eyes the way lovers do. By the tree, I call to him. Maybe he wonders why his bark no longer echoes.
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Lawrence J. Krips © 2012
{/mooblock} |
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Nominated by the OPP for a Pushcart Award • |
{mooblock=Yahrzeit}
Nineteen years ago this night
I viewed your body contorted by death into a form unlike any assumed during life. In that hospital basement you did not care about such worldly matters.
The aide who accompanied me
kept apologizing for his presence. I understood the legality, while resenting restrictions on my only wish – just to embrace you, an intimacy refused me in your life.
Would I have said
something different, something more meaningful, out of ear shot?
Don’t know.
Don’t remember what I did say to your rigid coldness that night.
In that subterranean sanctuary,
while my wife and children, your grandchildren, patiently waited in the lobby above, my once generous provider, lay delicate and vulnerable and open, attitudes you did not envision in life.
These years later,
divorced, children grown, I sit before a fireplace in New England woods Yahrzeit candle glowing on the mantlepiece.
I go out to get more wood,
put it on the fire and look up to see the flame extinguished.
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Lawrence J. Krips © 2012
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{mooblock=Opening Lines} |
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{mooblock=Three Selections} ONE BRIEF LIFE Compressed into one brief life is humanity’s entire history. • IN BLACK TURTLE COVE Blue Footed Boobies, hundreds fishing in a cove. Black water turns white •
TRUE ART |
