Books from Black River Press

Waiting to Sail

A new full-length book of poetry by Georgia Ressmeyer. See excerpts below.

"At the core of Georgia Ressmeyer’s Waiting to Sail is a graceful and perceptive meditation of human connection—physical, mental, emotional, philosophical—to the world that we inhabit, if only for a short time. In her poetry, needs of the psyche wrestle with limitations of the finite vessels with which we are endowed. Nowhere is this contemplation more evident than in the poignancy of the line “Do not be lulled into trusting your feet.” Considering the well-worn and faithful appendages that have carried her through many seasons, the speaker likens them to aging cats that have gotten the better of her, having forced her to readjust and scale back. It is this spirit tempered by human limitation that drives Ressmeyer’s poetry in this concisely crafted collection."

~ Rob Pockat, founding editor of Stoneboat Literary Journal

Georgia Ressmeyer, a New York native, spent her childhood summers swimming and sailing on Long Island’s North Fork. Since 1974 she has lived happily in Wisconsin, first as an attorney in Milwaukee, now as a poet in Sheboygan, where she lives three blocks from Lake Michigan. Twice a recipient of grants from the Wisconsin Arts Board, Ressmeyer has published fiction, numerous poems, and an award-winning poetry chapbook, Today I Threw My Watch Away (Finishing Line Press, 2010).

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Let There Be Dark
by Georgia Ressmeyer

 

Hold back, coal-black Night.

Let lingering gold light ring you out,

let cobalt blue forerun you

with its twilight act.

 

Bring sequins for the second set

and scatter these, or sew them

on your jacket sleeve.

 

A cloud or two reflective of

the city’s glow won’t pose a threat —

but if the moon pops up, it will

spill milk into your lap.

 

You’ll have your hey-night yet,

your new-moon jet,

your moment out of the sun,

your run from its mirror.

 

Till then, hang on. Your time is

overdue. Maybe in a week or two.

 

first published in Red Cedar

 

 

Cumulus
by Georgia Ressmeyer

 

A cumulus accumulates sighs

of early wakers, grows

high on moist regrets

in otherwise dry weather,

 

bloats itself with pride on

dew drawn from the lungs

of sleep-desirers turning

in their beds —

 

a clever marauder teasing

predawn hikers with

billowed hints of thunder,

lightning, rain to break

 

the cloudless chain of

days — but laughs too soon,

leaks breath, deflates and

cedes the sky to blue

 

while rain-enthusiasts,

unable to rouse the fizzled

cloud-balloons to lift,

sigh over the parched earth.

 

first published in Fox Cry Review

 

 

For more information about Black River Press, call (920) 452-4469 or email