David Dephy
David Dephy (he/him) (pronounced as “DAY-vid DE-fee”), is an American award-winning poet and novelist. The founder of Poetry Orchestra, a 2023 Pushcart Prize nominee for Brownstone Poets, an author of the full-length poetry collection Eastern Star (Adelaide Books, NYC, 2020), and A Double Meaning, also a full-length poetry collection with co-author Joshua Corwin, (Adelaide Books, NYC, 2022). His poem, “A Senses of Purpose,” is going to the moon in 2024 by The Lunar Codex, NASA, SpaceX, and Brick Street Poetry. He is named as Literature Luminary by Bowery Poetry, Stellar Poet by Voices of Poetry, Incomparable Poet by Statorec, Brilliant Grace by Headline Poetry & Press and Extremely Unique Poetic Voice by Cultural Daily. He lives and works in New York City.
The Flow of the Current
You need to go, I know, I see, the rivers are in you,
and oceans, and mountains, and heavens are in you,
and no one knows the trout that swim upstream
in those rivers. Trout must swim upstream to breathe.
Water enters their mouths, and exits the gills
as they face upstream, by facing upstream,
the trout catch whatever food comes their way
by the flow of the current, and not only food,
but dreams as well secretly told to water
by the pilgrims and saints, and no one knows how
their hearts are entwined rays the road carries
through the rapid circle of days and nights
toward us all. You will give them a key, today,
and will show them your door. You will walk with them, today,
and will tell a story, not revealing the end of that story
until you speak in their tongue, until you care about them.
The sound of flow attracts you more and you need to go,
I see, trout must swim upstream.
The Sky Is Clear Tonight
Silence tomorrow,
the sky is clear tonight. See?
Still, the song echoes,
you know a song enough
to drown the notes
in silence as the seeds.
Mirages of clear water
across dusty horizons,
ripe expectations just
over the rise, right there.
An old photograph
makes us chuckle,
but now your smile
has such a glare,
I just can't tell.
This endless journey
keeps me turning back
to something forgotten,
to something misplaced,
keeps me turning back
toward you,
and the clouds above you
form as the moon rises,
and we still try to give them
a sense of purpose.