AUTHOR INTERVIEW B. L. Bruce is an an award-winning poet and Pushcart prize nominee whose has appeared in dozens of anthologies, magazines, and literary publications, including The Wayfarer Journal, Canary, The Remnant Archive, Northwind Magazine, The Monterey Poetry Review, and the American Haiku Society’s Frogpond Journal, among many others. Bruce is the recipient of the [...]
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Interview with Author B. L. Bruce
AUTHOR INTERVIEW with B. L. Bruce Last month, I sat down virtually with Blogespresso for an author interview to discuss my latest book Measures, my writing process, and what feeds my creativity. Can you please introduce yourself? Readers would love to know more about you. My name is Bri Bruce (writing under the name B. [...]
BlueInk Review: ‘Measures’ by B. L. Bruce
Measures B.L. Bruce Publisher: Black Swift Press Pages: 134 ISBN: 9781735707402Reviewed: March, 2021 BUY THE BOOK ON AMAZON Excerpt from BlueInk Review [B.L. Bruce's] newest poetry collection, Measures, by turns elicits tenderness and melancholy, hopefulness and heartbreak—which is to say, the gamut of the human condition.Measures includes 58, mostly free verse poems with occasional haiku. Imagery from the natural world is often [...]
Review of ‘Measures’ from Clarion Reviews
The poems of Measures embrace lyrical tendencies as they move through the seasons of a troubled relationship. Both absence and presence haunt the pages of b. l. bruce’s poetry collection, Measures. A one time lover and longed for friend adventures to the water, leaving their companion alone on the shore. Wrinkles appear as if grooved overnight, and the [...]
“Cachagua Road” Published in Feral’s “Love” Issue
Cachagua Road From the low bridge over the river you spoke,blue lupines rising silently beneath the oaks,weighed with the damp of evening.Your words were carried away downstream,lost to me. I felt a sadness,heavy as stones.I listen—bending of waterover rocks, wind in the armsof the trees. I’ve learned the voicesof the robin, the towhee,thrasher—useless except forthe [...]
New Poem “Mockingbird” by Poet B. L. Bruce Published in Visitant
MOCKINGBIRD As it often doesmoving by memory,your body finds mine, fitspuzzled into angles and curvesin those hushed hours—were it not for the mockingbirdscreaming into the moonlit,slate-grey sky. I envy you,your unbothered sleep.No torment. No great,stirring voicein your mindscreaming,screaming. c. B. L. BruceFirst published by VisitantFollow Bruce on Instagram @thepoesis and Twitter @the_poesis
Poem “Dark Star” Published in Emerge Literary Journal’s Issue 16
DARK STAR I had not expected, mid-life,that already my shining yearswould be behind me, tradedfor more essential things:what it meansto have patience,to wage a war,how to endure. I remember clearer now:the smooth dunes,bare shoulders,my body feeling somehowless bound, belongingto me. You came outof the sea—salt on skin.In a particular way,your face openedbeneath the midday sky.Those [...]
Excerpt from “At Henry Cowell State Park, Early Winter”
I drop a glove in the puddle of rainwater,and bending to remove itsee the reflection of my mother's figure,see the levy of years--the unexpected wither of skinas if waking to seethat it has snowedovernight. c. B. L. Bruce From "At Henry Cowell State Park, Early Winter" from my award-winning collection "The Weight of Snow," first [...]
B. L. Bruce’s “28 Days of Solitude” Re-released
Life in isolation during the coronavirus pandemic got me thinking of the time I spent 28 days in a small cabin in the remote forests of Northern California. I wrote about my time there, reflecting on the writing process, in my short memoir "28 Days of Solitude." Check out the newly refreshed edition, available now [...]
Poem “North” in Visitant
NORTH For a moment in the calm,between gusts of wind:the faint push of air beneath wing.The northern harrier drifts abovea flowering field of yellow mustard. Bobbing among the eddies,the murre learn centuriesof the waterwork and currents,driven unthinking by whatwe cannot know. Farther still, the north horizonis choked with fog;the clover lies trampled by salt windalong [...]
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