Just because I don’t carry the sun in my hand, it
doesn’t mean I'm afraid of it.
Who cares what day it is or what I said last night.
The highway comes rushing at me like a raging
torrent in spring, but not to worry, I’m not behind
the helm; in my hands I’m holding nothing more
than my hat and gloves and even that against better
advice. But I don’t care.
Just because I don’t paint the fresh green on
the foliage with my breath, it doesn’t mean I cannot
take a walk in the forest
if and where I choose to dive in.
Just because I cannot count the times a breeze slaps
me in the face, it doesn’t mean I cannot smell spring
in the air.
Just because a doctor tells Trenton I cannot drive
anything faster than a pair of shoes, you don’t have to
tell me what to do with my hat and gloves.
I can hold them in my lap, there's no law against that.
Paul Sohar ended his higher education with a BA in philosophy and took a day job in a research lab while writing in every genre, publishing seven volumes of translations, including "Dancing Embers", his Kanyadi translations (Twisted Spoon Press, 2002). His own poetry: “Homing Poems” (Iniquity, 2006) and “The Wayward Orchard”, a Wordrunner Prize winner (2011). Other awards: first prize in the Lincoln Poets Society contest. Latest translation volumes: "Silver Pirouettes" (TheWriteDeal, 2012) and “In Contemporary Tense” (Iniquity Press, 2013). His magazine credits include Agni, Gargoyle, Kenyon Review, Rattle, Salzburg Poetry Review, Seneca Review, etc. He has given talks at MLA and AHEA conferences and lectures at Centennial College, NJ.