Roger Aplon was born in Chicago, Illinois. Southeast side. Attended the University of Illinois-Urbana and the University of Chicago. Founded CHOICE Magazine with Aaron Siskind and John Logan. Completed Bachelor of Arts from Roosevelt University. Moved to San Francisco. Stiletto and By Dawn's Early Light at 120 Miles Per Hour published. Moved to San Diego. Published It's Mother's Day. Moved to Barcelona, Spain. Published Barcelona Diary. Returned to US. Widowed. Returned to Barcelona where in 2006/07 The Man With His Back To The Room Poems 2000-2005 and Intimacies Prose Poems & Stories were designed and published. 2007/08 saw the publication of three 'chapbooks:' After Goya- The, Disasters of War, Escapades and/ Improvisations. 2008 No longer living in Barcelona having returned to San Diego to teach and write. Most recently was awarded a two-month fellowship (summer 2009) to The Helene Wurlitzer Foundation of New Mexico. 

Marc Chagall @ Center Cultural Caixa Catalunya - An Exhibition
"...To me, art is mainly about a condition of [my] soul" M.C.

He's the horned goat in red robes with his Cheshire grin, the trout that
swims above the marriage bed, a chicken chasing a Rabbi home.

He's the violin that plays the funeral, the cow that gives green milk, the
clock that marks our time.

He's the husband & the wife adrift in midair, a Shofar trumpeting Rosh
Hashanah, a loafing Hassid called to prayer.

He's a gambler with his foot in his mouth, a drunkard pissing against the
fence, Jacob battling his angel.

He's Abraham with a knife at Isaac's throat, a lover stroking the skin of
his beloved, Job frozen in despair.

He is, in fact, all that he has gleaned & pressed to his breast & wrestled to
the earth & tamed &... reluctantly released...

From: Barcelona Diary

The Woman In The Window
wears white & weeps blue tears down her thin cheeks & and her
silver hair is a nest of chickadees &

around her neck from a silver chain a miniature black cage
where a white cricket lives &

in her heart there’s a hole that has never been filled & in her mouth
words she will never speak but

chews them day by day until they are the color of white paste
that will be her meal for the night.

The woman in the window cannot find her way in the dark & depends
on the moon  & the shadows it casts

to make a path for her to come & go & in the day she is motionless
in her chair of asphodel & weeds &

looks to the horizon like a queen waiting for her lost consort  & when I see 
her, as I often do, I wave &

she offers a rare smile & I see her teeth are strong & her eyes turn bright as 
the darkest stars.

From: The Man With His Back To The Room


Roger Aplon Poet

© 2009 Roger Aplon

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