top of page

Charles Bane, Jr


  All the men went  

Hunting with Masai

Charles Bane, Jr. is the American author of The Chapbook ( Curbside Splendor, 2011) and Love Poems ( Kelsay Books, 2014). His work was described by the Huffington Post as "not only standing on the shoulders of giants, but shrinking them."  Creator of The Meaning Of Poetry series for The Gutenberg Project, he is a current nominee as Poet Laureate of Florida. "In Paris" is from his new release.

Dawn is spear and

shield and gun recklessly

left behind. We move in a

single line. Last night

they chased away a

missionary and we lay.

Mine is the god of the Hebrews

I explained, mountain born

like N'gai. He is not desirous

of you and only one

of mine has seen his face.

His mountain had boiled gravely

and he built a vessel of lava

rock for a climber overcome

to voyage fire home.


All the men went

to the mines and

my grandfather carried

a canary in a small cage.

When the bird expired he

chose to stay as the others

rushed to air.

At his funeral Mass in

the church he never 

entered, a choir sang

Danny Boy that was his 

drinking song. No one

understood his choice

to lay beside his pick

and sleep; but I had

spent a night in his home

when I was small and called

down for his company.

He lay beside me

and explained how

the light that reflects

through a prism is a true

division of a miracle and

this was joyous to him to

know and he described

the tracks of carts carrying coal

and the flashing lamps of fellow

gods and he recounted, touching

my hair, the Iliad and Apollo of the sky

on a knee, firing arrows in single


He was without vice: but when the

elevator ascended from the shaft

in daylight savings time, grand-

mother told me he disappeared to 

land for sale and tasted the rich black

soil of Illinois with a spoon. I think,

and write, of ultra violet and infra red

light that vibrates in every kind of 

molecule, even cloud drops, in

a music for grandfather and choice


bottom of page