Frank J, Edwards’ poetry first appeared, along with several of his short stories, in the volume, It’ll Ease The Pain. The Problem With Zero includes revised versions of several of these earlier poems, as well as a rich collection of new works. Edwards has been published in literary journals including The Virginia Quarterly Review, and poems in The Problem With Zero have been previously published in that journal, as well as in The MacGuffin, Aileron, and The Journal of Emergency Medicine. 

The Problem With Zero, as well as additional poetry, fiction and non-fiction by Frank J. Edwards, can also be ordered from Amazon.com.  Kindle editions can be obtained from Amazon as well.

Here are three selections from his new volume:

 

Next Generation

In an episode called Family,

Jean-Luc Picard, freshly wrenched

From a Borg assimilation,

Returns to rural France,

Psyche in shreds,

Back to the vineyards still worked

By his burly brother Robert,

Who’d stayed behind

When Jean-Luc boldly left.

Robert will not let the suffering prodigal

Lick his wounds in peace,

Lobs innuendoes till Picard’s warp core melts.

Between the vines they grunt and roll

Until both are covered in mud and their shields are down.

Laughing they retreat to a cellar,

Crack a bottle put up by their father

And drink as dust shimmers

In a shaft of light.

After sunset,

Starlight and moonbeams caress the valley

And the camera pans down

To the bole of a tree

Where Jean-Luc’s nephew René

Sits alone in the night,

Staring up.

Billy Collins

This is not to eulogize Billy Collins

Like Shelly did for Keats,

(Oh, weep for Collins!),

Because, I’m happy to report,

Like the wind in the orchard,

Collins yet stirs.

Maybe even this morning

He strolls around a pond

Where autumn leaves settle,

Tosses in a pebble to hear

The marsh birds explode,

Or hovers in the corner

Of your favorite coffee shop,

Like a bluebird

Gyring in a thermal.

Yule Log

Christmas Eve. My son and I

Build a pyre of driftwood

On this rocky shore.

Embers swirl up in the night.

We talk of distant loved ones

And feed the fire,

Serving it last a pale trunk

Complete with roots

Washed up this summer,

Bole of a tall cedar

Once perched

Unsurely

On a muddy bank

Far away.

 

“Like William Carlos Williams, Edwards brings the wisdom of the clinic to these lyrical poems and gritty short stories.”

– Joseph J. Fins, MD, FACP, Chief, Division of Medical Ethics, Weill Medical College of Cornell University.