Tag Archives: David Eye

CPR Best of Volume 16 Now Available

CPR Volume 16 Front CoverAfter more than a week of stuffing envelopes, the hard-copy “Best of Volume 16” Cider Press Review is on its way to contributors, subscribers, and former Book Award contest entrants.

The “Best of” issue features poems by Rebecca Baggett, Carol Berg, Jennifer Jackson Berry, Maggie Blake, Ace Boggess, John Bradley, Christine Butterworth-McDermott, Sharon Chmielarz, Lisa J. Cihlar, Joan Colby, Michael Collins, Gemma Cooper-Novack, Jimmie Cumbie, Carol V. Davis, Paul Dickey, Iris Jamahl Dunkle, Carol Ellis, Sarah Estes, David Eye, Evelyn Clark Farbman, Shawn Fawson, Janice Greenwood, David Hathwell, Gary Hawkins, Sara Henning, Brian Patrick Heston, Louisa Howerow, Ann Hudson, Amie Keddy, Heather Lang, Susanna Lang, Mercedes Lawry, Bernadette McBride, Amy Meckler, Colleen Michaels, Nancy Carol Moody, Carolyn Moore, Mary Moore, Susannah Nevison, Amy Newday, Autumn Newman, Sharon Olson, Mary Elizabeth Parker, Lynn Pedersen, Kevin Phan, Katherine Rauk, Geri Rosenzweig, Michael G. Smith, Heather Sommer, Sarah Sousa, Joannie Stangeland, Kelly Terwilliger, Lisken Van Pelt Dus, Ryan Vine, Donna Vorreyer, Chelsea Wagenaar, Mark Wagenaar, Marq Wilson, Laura Madeline Wiseman, Anne Harding Woodworth, Matthew Zingg. Book reviews by Ken Hada and Gary Leising.

To order your own or extra copies, please visit the CPR Bookstore.

As New York Snow,
by David Eye

By two o’clock the snowstorm had begun
its diagonal attack on windows
overlooking East 7th. Inside, low
hum of the fridge. Hard to tell when the sun
went down: the night sky retained a special
glower: crystals, infinitesimal
mirrors, falling, reflect who we are. Sky
the color of burn. Nothing here is pure.

But in the morning upper branches lace
themselves in a graceful matrix. Ivy
firmly woven onto the fire escape
shivers a little less in the rising
slant of the sun. This day will be clean. Let
us meet in the sober and snowswept light.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 16, Issue 1.

David EyeDavid Eye’s chapbook, Rain Leaping Up When a Cab Goes Past, is forthcoming from Seven Kitchens Press. His poems have appeared in The Louisville ReviewPuerto del SolStone CanoeConsequence Magazine (finalist, 2010 Consequence Prize for Poetry), and others.

See all items about David Eye

Visit David Eye’s contributors page.

Say you’re walking on a beach,
by David Eye

and it’s twilight, the brilliant day
having begun its fade to indigo.
The water is passive, expectant, more lake
than sea. Suppose there’s a small boat
a few feet offshore, and it slides onto the sand.
You approach, and place your hands
on its weathered prow, wood thickened
with layers of paint, dark green and white.
The vessel is empty—no oars or engine.
If you hoist yourself into the hull (wide
enough your arms just reach one side to the other)
a wave might lift and draw you into the water.

And what if by now there’s a canopy
of stars; if the tide, sky, and sinuous line
of hills in the distance (they feel like
comfort) are all shades of the same deep
violet? Thin clouds focus the moonlight
into five silvery beams, yet the stars are bright
enough to be doubled in the generous sea.

Say the boat rocks a little, drifting, then
realigns and starts to follow the shore.
And if it’s moving backward, flat stern first?
You’d want to turn, wouldn’t you, to see
what’s ahead, behind you. But suppose
you didn’t. If instead, you lay back and took in
the stars, the sea’s sweet breeze on your skin.
Could you do this? Is it enough to know
you are in the boat?


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 3.

David Eye’s chapbook, Rain Leaping Up When a Cab Goes Past, is forthcoming from Seven Kitchens Press. David earned a midlife MFA from Syracuse University in 2008, and served as Visiting Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at Manhattan College from 2010-2013. He lives in the Catskill Mountains northwest of New York City.

See all items about David Eye

Visit David Eye’s contributors page.