Four poems by Dah Helmer


Without knowing
our beginning
we do not know
how far we have come
The first seed sprouted
as wordless space
Yes, we have named it
many times
and still
we do not know it


If only to drift away
to another universe
that knows
no objects
no boundaries
no suffering


We are like rocks
held in
deep agony
Sealed inside
the high pitched squeal
the shuddering heart


I say this softly / Man,
a forceful creature / a living
and misdirected


Dah’s seventh poetry collection is Something Else’s Thoughts (Transcendent Zero Press)
He is a Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net nominee, and the lead editor of the poetry

critique group, The Lounge. Dah’s eighth book is Full Life In The Day Of A Poet
(Cyberwit Press).

Sound by Dah Helmer

The spirituality of sound
of a gong
of a loon
the impossible grieving
of morning doves
the cracking of ice
the drone of urban streets
trucks rumbling
over wooden bridges
a cat’s purr

There’s a need to hold sound
to feel its pulsation
to see colors of sounds
or to hear the sun mounting
the sky or
the bloodless and wicked
sound of lightning

Ah, the overflowing tapestry
of sounds
with their invisible force
or the unconscious sounds
of the dead
diffused and distant
or the meandering of echoes

the broadcast, the transmission
the longwinded sermons
the cry of newborns
the utterance, the announcement
a city’s cacophony, the uproar
the dissonant chord
the rhetoric of schizophrenics
or Purple Passages of Deep Purple
psychedelic or progressive sounds

Om, a sound of guidance
the chant, the mantra, the moan
of orgasms, the gasp, the scream
the subtleness of a whisper

Portrait by Dah Helmer

I gave in to autumn wine
beneath clouds of burden
waited for the monsoon
to dizzy my brain
Inside my skull
I found these words
drunk against the sky
But it was nothing
not bone nor body
until a hand slid
into my mouth
scraped them
from my tongue
spattered them
across this page
to portray
a fermented human heart
tart spice of grief
a freshet of old lovers

For Never Young by Dah Helmer

Everything grows old

as if never young

above, in sky,

below, in earth,

wind and seeds and trees


We have been conjured from

many spells

a crying or a hunger

that burns dark then bright


rooted in woman

first water, first sounds


Say our journey when young


we spun stardust into bones

Say our journey when old


we have grown out of many

splinter crack shatter by Dah Helmer

glass minds

glass memories

glass dreams








glass dreams

glass memories

glass minds





Dah’s fourth book is ‘The Translator’ from ‘Transcendent Zero Press’. His first three books are from ‘Stillpoint Books’. Dah’s poetry has been published by editors from the U.S., the U.K., Ireland, Canada, China, Philippines, and India. His poems recently appeared in Lost Coast Review, The Recusant, The Cape Rock,  River&South Review, Acumen Journal, Sandy River Review, Black Market Re-View, The Linnet’s Wings, Harbinger Asylum, The Galway Review and The Canon’s Mouth. Dah lives in Berkeley, California where he is working on the manuscripts for his fifth and sixth books.