Friday, January 30, 2009


There are moments, I know, when nothing can be expressed;

no words spoken, aloud. The failure of language becomes completely exposed,

like the maple tree in my front yard,

leafless and cold.


We set such a premium upon the spoken word,

little knowing the history its seen:

Old, black, men on porches

have taught.

Even, in the pause

and taking in of breath,

silence has its place.


When my silver-tongue ceases to speak

I’ll take my cue from these:

Bound and boundless

are words.

Only love

can find them.

Monday, January 26, 2009

See Me Fall :

Left to my own vices

I entered uncharted water.

The nightly news didn’t help matters.

Each morning,

I’d awaken, unshorn of warmth:

More of the same spent




the floor.



Saturday, January 24, 2009

I can play around, and laugh, all I want.

The feeble-minded will still be taken advantage of.
The middle class will still be impelled to look downward,
The boxcar will only be a memory,
fading in the distance.
The peddler will forever be knocking on the backdoor.

Someday, my princess will come.
I can play around, and laugh, all I want.

All I need is more

In between trains,
my sight transcends clarity.

The stiff-fingered boy
writes incessantly
about life.

The old man shakes his head
in wonder.

The thought moves on,
as a ticket is punched.

I can play around, and laugh,
all I want.

~x~William ~01/23/copyright2009

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Where Ya Goin'?

  • I'm in a really scattered mood. In every word,
  • my dear, you'll find a blessing
  • or, a curse.
  • Don't step on my tie,
  • break my session
  • with passion,
  • or,
  • ride the train with strangers.
  • If you happen to catch me talking to myself,
  • pat me on the back,
  • smile,
  • and say,
  • Where ya goin'?
  • **
  • (These days, it's the only relevant question.)

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

New Day, Martin....

~x~William H. Balzac (and, "PoetHeadsUp" @YouTube)

Friday, January 9, 2009

..."quiet desperation."

We can question Ourselves
until the last breath,

never knowing
all the struggles
of Others.


I've carried the suitcase
of your Life:

The walk to the Station,
and the ride,
on the tracks,


in my Heart,
I recognized the Child.

What we experience
is not a burden,
it's a Life.]


Motion, commanded,
forward, pushed,
with a Devil at Our heels.


It's there,
among the Quiet,-- stalling, before it starts--

You'll hear the murmur
of Our Days:

Onward, onward,
between Connections, never made...

...and, the Silence,



Monday, January 5, 2009

In Transit.

A Poet,
is constantly
in Transit.

Like you,
in your best of times,
your worst of times,
the World listens
as it turns

forever forward.

We see the end
in Beginnings,

And in Transit,

our Words



Saturday, January 3, 2009

Official Publication Date: Jan. 10, 2009:


In every writers life there are those who touch, inspire, and encourage.

A book would not be complete without a dedication & acknowledgment to

the people who have brought so much to the written words I’ve managed to

give voice to.


And so, before the words are read, or spoken, I enscribe these words upon the page,





For, my brother, Joseph Edward Balzac,
and, my sister, Elizabeth Vaas.
With love, always,
For my father, Joseph Daniel Balzac.
And, last, but certainly, not least :
In memory, of my mother, Dorothy Balzac.

(Love is forever * Festina Lente)




There are so many friends who I’d like to mention.
They all, played a part in encouragement and support. This small book, in
no small part, couldn’t have seen completion without their presence in my life:
Francesca Clement; Maureen; David & Joanna Samija; Radical Vixen;
Scarlett; Elosia James; Lil Bit; Lisa Q; Rose; Dandelion Tamer; Butterfly
Temptress; Ryan Ashford; Tara T.; Tey; Joss Loner; Rick Mobbs; Catalina R.;
Padme & Anakin; Misty; Clare McNally; Diane Fortuna; Michelle (brat); Valeria,
and, finally, Emma Bishop. You are all on my Hit Parade…and, I thank you.



In my family:

Anne Balzac: You’ve always been a fair critic and good reader of my
Kathleen Balzac: You have a wonderful eye. I love your photographs. You
are a writer, too, niece. I admire your words, as well.

And, finally:

A special mention must go to The National Marfan Foundation, in Port
Washington, New York.

Thank you, for keeping me informed and healthy.


___William H. Balzac —11/1/08



pushes past the settled–

coming to rest like a fallen leaf.


Eventually, we might see an expansion of riches:


Blown bits of our

lifted by Angels

or, an unknown opportunity,

crying for


Friday, January 2, 2009


"It's in the air"