Welcome to The Gallery at darkcoastpress.com!
The Gallery is an art gallery of great writing from a variety of writers in prose, poetry, essay, and experimental work. We diplay the best work that has been submitted to us openly, like a gallery, rather than a journal, magazine, or review. Come in off the street, read a bit, take its impressions away with you. The menu to the left is arranged by latest published edition, and all authors and featured pieces organized accordingly. Check back monthly for each new edition the first Friday of every month. Thank you, enjoy reading!
If you are interested in submitting work to appear on The Gallery we would love to have you. Send submissions by email to This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it , and please, please, please read our Submissions Guidelines, all the good stuff’s in there.
Bryan C. Murray is a poet and (forthcoming) graduate of Virginia Tech’s
MFA program. He is the Spring 2010 Winner of the Emily Morrison
Poetry Prize. Bryan has completed the book-length poetry manuscript
Full Water, which is currently seeking a publisher.
He was born and raised in the Bronx, NYC.
Identity Equation
Bryan C. Murray
Ocean ÷ balloons = tears ÷ faces x (years of dodging
Where yo’ daddy at?) x a chestnut pain, in the chest
x a brick-sized pain, in the core x a Times Square
x an Asia x (the intergalactic question,
because nobody knew what planet you were on, on any given day)
+ rivers + faces = 13/288 (or its rough equivalent)
+ tree bark + autumn leaves
– (I don’t even know when your birthday is) + self-hate books
+ stale air pruning that balloon
+ balloon breath + the wind of someone running
+ the wind excusing through tree branches
+ (the times I’ve searched for synonyms for wind
x I don’t care to look anymore) = (wind, it is)
= (the times I’ve searched for substitutes for father
x I’ve stopped) = (wind, it is)
= the mirror doesn’t lie = your eyes + your smile + your ears
+ wind = Was I that bad, son – (You wasn’t that anything)
= talking to myself x a lifetime of practice = (I see you in the mirror,
& it frightens me) = your space travel + your Heaven (or Hell) travel
– I’m not sure I believe in that stuff + ocean, again
+ I’m still alive, looking like you = 1/1 = your eyes were lighter
+ (of the two pictures I have, I scanned the one you looked healthy)
= 1/1 = a dry spell
= I don’t know where your body is
+ I haven’t asked either + another poem about you
= another poem about me = (I woke up wanting to write about balloons, again,
then this happened) = the rotary-dial ringing from the living room
+ your voice
+ I’m in the hospital, again – your voice
– my words.
