Sean Rima's Books & Stuff

06/02/2026

"Clowns & Outlaws" is the first book in a trilogy, and I am halfway through the second. I like this collection, spanning my weird journey from Maryland to Texas, meeting my wife, Siria, and getting off the booze. It is dedicated to folks in recovery. It also features some very cool photography by my daughter, Alysha Corkran, and my best friend, Randy, the ass-kicking bass player for The Chuck Wimer Band. Got some good reviews, hope you'll check it out. Available in paperback and fancy hardcover...

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"Clowns & Outlaws" is a selection of poet Sean Rima's gritty free verse and haiku spanning the years 2001-2024. This collection explores a diverse range of themes from Rima's personal experiences, including fatherhood, divorce, addiction, love, illness, aging, and death, as he chases his own, wei...

05/30/2026

NEW POEM, JUST WRITTEN ON THE PORCH.

"The Way."

I have
yet to meet
a learned scholar
or theologian who
understands the
meaning

of the weight of the
tree across the shoulders
of Christ deeper than a ju**ie
or a drunk in recovery, for

only they will
grasp that
first you
must

crucify
something
you love &
adore in

order to

be reborn.

----------------
Copyright 2026 by Sean Rima.

05/07/2026

NEW POEM, JUST WRITTEN ON THE PORCH & FEELING OLD FARTY...

"Grains of sand."

Life is an hourglass,
tipped upside-down,
& every grain of
sand that falls
through the
narrow
part
and
into

the bottom
is a precious
moment you let

slip away from you--

A few minutes of pillow talk
with the one you said "I do" to,
reading a book to your kid when
your kid was still a kid, spending
an afternoon on your best friend's
porch and watching the sun go
down, a day at the beach
with your mom, or one
last phone call with
your dad, asking
his advice on
some damn
thing you
could
have

answered
for yourself--

And when the
grains get low,

those lofty and
self-important reasons
you gave yourself for letting
all that sand fall through your

busy hands won't matter much

then, as the last grain
tumbles away from
you, and all that's
left of your time
here, in this
place, is

a photo book
with empty pages,

and the cold, gnawing
feeling that you should have

said "I love you" more than you did.

________
Copyright 2026 by Sean Rima.

04/30/2026

NEW POEM, BASED UPON SOMETHING NEWLY REMEMBERED, for the last day of Poetry Month...

"A girl named Grace."

(1986.)

They came up to me
after final curtain on a college
production of 'The Fantastiks,' in
which I was playing Mortimer, The
Indian Who Dies, and her best friend

asked me if I'd take her to her prom--

Her name was Grace, and she had
long, raven-colored hair, a toothy
smile, and pretty, chocolate
eyes, big and round
and moist--

And she
was too shy to ask me her-
self, which is why the best friend
intervened, and I thought she was
cute so I said, "Yes! Of course!"
And then, with a giggle, she
scribbled her phone
number down on a
piece of note-
book paper,
and I

promised
I'd call, but
I never did,
because
that's

the kind
of guy I was
back then, & maybe
still am--and it was a

couple of months later when
the best friend came by my work
one afternoon, & with a simmering
hatred in her eyes, informed me

that Grace had died, in a car

crash, on Prom Night,

and she thought
that I should
know--

And
though
I lost it
along
the
way
some-
where,

I carried
her phone
number with
me, in my wallet,
for many moons after,
and I'd take it out every
now and again, and gaze
at the loops & curls of her

handwriting, in blue ink, yet

blurred in spots from a tear-

drop guilty with booze

and physics, as
I'd slur, to my-
self, "God,
I'm s-so
very

s-sorry,"

for even
after 40-
odd years,

I still remember

a girl named Grace,

w/her long, raven-colored hair,
her toothy smile, & those pretty,
chocolate eyes of hers, big
and round and moist,

and it haunts now,
to this day, who
she might

have
been,

if not

for me.

______
Copyright 2026.
Taken from Turnaround, https://a.co/d/00CojwCi

04/28/2026

NEW POEM.

"Huevos rancheros."

You know the huevos
will be farm fresh, the tortillas
hand-rolled & dusty with flour,
and the pico chopped
this morning, at the
taqueria
down

the street,
if you go into
the Men's Room
and find a piece of
notebook paper taped
to the wall next to the toilet
that reads, in black magic

marker: "No tirar el papel
cafe en el toilet!

Gracias!"

-----
Copyright 2026 by Sean Rima.

04/24/2026

https://a.co/d/0iHnFpHn

"Clowns & Outlaws" is a selection of poet Sean Rima's gritty free verse and haiku spanning the years 2001-2024. This collection explores a diverse range of themes from Rima's personal experiences, including fatherhood, divorce, addiction, love, illness, aging, and death, as he chases his own, wei...

04/24/2026

NEW POEM, just written, for Siria.

"She."

She
is calm water
after the rapids have
kicked your ass & knocked
you side-to-side, before the
river has found its level in
you, as you are telling
yourself that all
is lost--

She
is fire
and wind
and molten rock
raining down upon thee,
if you f*ck with her or me
or any member of our
family, & I wouldn't
test her on that,
for I have seen
her go from
zero-to-
West-
side
in

just
half
a blink,
if she thinks
that you have
wronged her, &
they'll never
find your
body--

She
is a filth-
talking clown
with perfect timing,
& even on the saddest
of days, in a gray-falling
rain, she'll get me rolling
so hard, I cannot breathe,
like my older brothers
sitting on my chest
& tickling me, as
I plead: "Stop!
Dear Jesus!
You are
killing
me--"

And
I fall
in love
with her
all over again,
a little more each
year, that we are here,
together, in this life,
just getting by the
hard days and
the soft, for
that is
how
our

hearts
are designed--
to swell with time
& memories--& that is
also why I sigh a little
when I have to go
to bed, and set
my alarm, &
then try to
sleep,
know-
ing

She
is at the
table in the
dining room, after
midnight, on a Tuesday,
writing an essay for her
Political Science degree,
after making us dinner
& feeding the cats,
when she has to
be up for work
by seven a.m.,
when most
girls her
age are
count-
ing

their
investments,
& planning trips
to Vegas, or the
beach, or may-
be Paris in
France,
for

She
is the
beginning
& the end of me
now, the song on
my lips and the gray
in my beard, and my old
poet's heart still sparks a
little when she enters a
room, as it did on
our first date,
when she
met me
for a
cup
of

coffee,
even though
she never drinks
the stuff--& if I should
go before her time, I
will wait for her at
the train station
on the other
side of the
sun, &
save

a window
seat for her,
just in case she

needs a nap, or the
rocking makes her sick,

because I love her, God, I do,

& that's all there is to know about me.

‐------
Copyright 2026 by Sean Rima.

04/11/2026

NEW POEM, WRITTEN IN AWE...

"Magnificent."

(4/10/2026.)

On just another Wednesday,
four homo sapiens crawled in-
side a metal can sitting atop a
bomb the size of a 30-story
building, and blasted
themselves

around the
dark side of
the moon, where
they floated in awe
and photographed the
first crescent Earthrise
to be seen by human eyes,
lurking behind the green and
pummeled lunar horizon, then

blasted their way back home
9 days, 1 hour, & 46 minutes

later in a hot but elegant
splashdown, bobbing
about in the Pacific
Ocean off the
coast of San
Diego,
and,

for all
we know,

several lightyears
away, a race of ancient
snow crabs, who speak in
thoughts alone, & eons ago,
figured-out how to travel vast
distances by slipping a vehicle
through the curvature of space-
time, observed the Artemis II
mission from their far-
off laboratories
with a sense
of wonder
& relief,

as God looked down
upon his cosmic master-
piece, & chuckled in pride,

like seeing your kid parallel-
park the family station

wagon for the very
first time with-
out hitting
the curb,

while
choking
back a tear
or two, and
sighing, to

Himself--

"Well done...!"

_______
Copyright 2026 by Sean Rima.

04/03/2026

tiktok.com/.rima

03/10/2026

NEW POEM, JUST WRITTEN...

"A night at the Paradise Saloon."

(For Augie Meyers.)

The old outlaws are working
on their set list for the night,
at a table near the back,
next to the jukebox, in
a honkytonk on the
other side of the
Universe,
where

Billy Joe is
quoting the book of
Matthew to the pretty
waitress with the silver
wings, Kristofferson
flips through an
old, worn
edition
of

William Blake,
Waylon is working
the pinball machine,
Jerry Jeff orders a fresh
pitcher for the table with
some chips and salsa,
Flaco is noodling on
his accordion on a
barstool, and
Kinky grouses
to the sound
guy that
the

levels
are all f*cked-

up, when the front door
swings open and a beam
of heavenly sunlight fills the
darkened saloon, and a tall
dude with a long braid
hanging down his
back strolls in
with a smile,
and the old
outlaws
get up
from

the table,
and pat him
fondly across
his wide shoulders,
as the pretty waitress
with the silver wings asks,

"What can I get you, Augie?"

And he answers with a wink
to his good, old friends--

"How's the guacamole

tonight?"

____________
Copyright 2026 by Sean Rima.