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About Literature / Professional Core Member William F. DeVaultMale/United States Recent Activity
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More information and poetry

I keep a few sites around the web, aside from places that just have a piece or two of my work. These include:

My original blog, the City of Legends

My pure poetry blog (with hundreds of works), Amomancer:

My primary showcase site, with my works, expressed with the art and photography of many DA regulars,

Yes, I am a Twit! Twitter me

And I am on FaceBook:
WilliamFDeVault (of course)

And, you can find recordings of many of my works on


:iconfroxalt: :iconthe-searching-one: :iconjoe795: :icon7ix: :iconmmoreland:
Thanks to the remarkable Lady Martist for her contribution to this video.  


fingers locking into the grooves
between the teeth
of the great god gear

joining the machine

finding point and purpose to stalk Sisyphus
before we are lost in the imponderable

joining the machine

the great god gear turns
and we are pulled
as our slack runs out

joining the machine

pulled in pulled on pulled apart
our hearts start and stop and start

joining the machine

bracing our last traces of face
we ride with pride into silence
the violence of sentience surrendered

joining the machine

to serve as little more than lubricant
to a future generation

joining the machine

because we didn't dare we didn't care
to shout a warning over the thrum
of torn flesh and grinding bone

joining the machine

William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved
trade greys for reds and golds and greens.
satin and silk.  and all the textures
a kiss can command.
warm, full lips.  walking their way
to the mortal portals.
you asked and I was tasked
to bring flowers to a garden.
to kiss the bloom.
petals softly falling.
like angels in rebellion.
show me your wings
my graceful faerie
in the moment
extended into the night
and into the light
for I would more than lay and play,
but walk and talk
and practice the alchemy
that is ours
as it rises with the sun.

William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
on the nature of poets

I once tasted a petal of clover, but that does not make me a honeybee,
merely a curious seeker unable to restrain myself from the moment
where I could imitate, faintly, the actions of the bee, aping the apis
to try to understand from where comes the honey, the nectar.
it was revelatory as the scale of the essence I partook of shook free
the magnitudes of mortal man from insect.  imitation by rote of role
constrained by nature and the Almighty is not the same as transfiguration.
I am not the clover.  not the honeybee.  I draw my sustenance in inspiration.

the undodged curtain (for my Mother)

I did not watch them shovel the rude earth over your mortal remains.
for that is not how I would remember you, celebrate you.
how many times had you dodged the curtain?  more than I knew, no doubt.
but it comes to this, a separation of mother and children
by the very ground we walked upon just weeks ago,
laying flowers on my Father’s grave you now lay beside.

to an eager lover’s religion

brighter than the fractured morning.  she calls me with her kisses.
too far away to feel then, to savour her breath or the texture
of her moist lips, slipping into a transcendental trance to dance
across my skin and soul like faerie in the absinthe, green and greedy.
I am ready for the rapture, theologically or held within her.
worshipping as an earnest acolyte to the delight of the night
when she sheds clothing in a disarray, like a torn veil in the temple
where all mysteries are to be revealed to the patient pilgrim.

a soft pink ghost upon the wall inside my skull

I thought of you and all the promises you meant at the time you made them.
I admit, I still miss you, kiss you in dreams heated and sweet, holding nothing back
as I embrace the blackened corners that are foreign to me, for you are not there,
merely a simulacrum of your beauty, your fire, the feral desire hat was light without heat,
bone without meat, even when cracked open for the marrow in desperation.


the rain reminds us all that we do not
control even the soft fall of heavens.
it speaks to us words of a held tongue, caught
expressionless, yet eloquent, leavens
the pale and dry biscuits of our conceits:
powder and salt and lard, concealing taste
only in the baker’s skills, the bland treats
seeming as more unto punishment, waste
of our attentions and intentions.  lips
split and bloody as our cursed thirst damning
to a revelation of lives’ eclipse
as we watch the kitchen timer turning,
mysterious clockwork and alchemy,
our lives measured by hands we cannot see.

measuring disaster in decibels of laughter

measuring the steps to the ledge, then running to turn
and leap
and fall
with practiced panic and the graceful disgrace
that saves face in the last instant and inches
before disfigurement and death
the breath of god and the occasional kind goddess
giving life at unexpected instants and instances
dances of the dreamers
that I will am still able to perform
even in my hermitage and hermit’s age.

when all is sad and done

will you stay with me
will you lay with me
until all is sad and done
and the sun reconsiders rising
for just an instant
out respect

when I leave
will you grieve
then remember
that I was about celebration
and dance barefoot on the kitchen floor

William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved

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the gentle glide of hands pressed against
the smooth spiral of your emotions
as they feed you need you bleed you
for an extended moment’s pleasure
measure by measure touch by touch
such sensual light burning a tattoo
of invisible runes deep into you with every
lap and kiss and penetrative trace
of fingertips as heralds to a deeper thrust
into the puzzle box of your body
lips touching in every sense and tensions
tightened and let in increasing
unceasing releasing wet and fevered
as you draw out my sacrifice
exchanging passion for passion
as expression of earnest peace
until the feral chaos of the next
hungry consummation

William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.
well, well,
the weltanschauung
is a dark place.
no surprises.
the mysteries were meant to be
and with a mercurial flow.
questions born as oft as not
from prejudice and memory.
but history
is only an echo
and echoes are just words
even when preconscious
and warning us of intended
that may never be.
the ebb and flow.
the ebon, below
the surface
measures itself
against the bloody flood
of passions.
and there are no strangers here

William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.


williamfdevault's Profile Picture
William F. DeVault
Artist | Professional | Literature
United States
I'm a poet. Ronin for now, making my way in the world. I don't write poetry. I don't do poetry. I coexist with it, some have even suggested I am poetry.

I can live with that. I have to. Because it is true. And that is what poetry is: Truth.

Favourite genre of music?
---Experimental rock
Favourite photographer:
---Mariya Andriichuk (LadyMartist)
Favourite writer (and editor):
---So many, so many
Favourite style of art:
---Surrealist, hyper-realism
Operating System:
---Mac OSX
Skin of choice:
---Soft, warm, ready to explore and share.
Favourite cartoon character:
---Daffy Duck


:iconsensualitas: :iconwrittenexcellence: :iconliteratureroadtrip: :iconmy-art-and-proud: :iconarts-shadow: :iconnotreforteressebrule: :iconlove-original-lit: :iconlove-literature: :iconromanceforeveryone: :iconreadandberead: :iconfirst-floor-poetry: :iconoccupyartists: :iconpoets-n-prose: :iconfantastic-faces: :iconpoets-and-warriors: :iconlovecostsnothing: :iconthemadhatters: :iconopen-mic-poetry: :icontomes-and-grimoires: :iconart-students: :iconartistsmind: :iconandroxazone: :iconknownames: :iconuniversalpoets: :iconbardic-tomes-poetry: :iconthe-odd-group: :iconpoetryisart: :iconword-smiths: :iconwriterspen: :iconprojectmisery:

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MMoreland Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2016  New Deviant Student Photographer
Thanks for the watch!
williamfdevault Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2016  Professional Writer
You are welcome!
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday :heart:
williamfdevault Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016  Professional Writer
Thank you.  Thank you very much.  :blackrose:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome, dear. I hope you had a beautiful day :heart:
The-Darkwolf Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016
Happy birthday! :cake: :)
williamfdevault Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016  Professional Writer
Thank you!   :blackrose:
The-Darkwolf Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016
:nod: most welcome!
Aussie-Blonde Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016
happy birthday to u..have a great day :hug:
williamfdevault Featured By Owner Aug 16, 2016  Professional Writer
Thank you, my angel.  :blackrose:
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