David B. Prather is the author of three poetry collections: We Were Birds (Main Street Rag, 2019), Shouting at an Empty House (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2023), and Bending Light with Bare Hands (Fernwood Press, 2025). His work has appeared in many publications, including New Ohio Review, Prairie Schooner, Poet Lore, Banyan Review, Cutleaf, etc. He lives in the town where he was born: Parkersburg, WV.

Other poems on the web by David B. Prather:
"Just as Depression Starts to Let Up"
Two poems
Two poems
Two poems
"My Father's Land"
Five poems
"In Decline"
"One Nation"
"Fall Field Crickets"
Three poems
"A Woman from the Past"
"17 Year Cicada"
"Through the Healing Machine"
"Man Revised"
"Katydid"
"After Being Diagnosed Diabetic"
"Eve's Theme"
"Man of Faith"

David B. Prather's Website.

About Bending Light with Bare Hands:

"The poems in David B. Prather's second full-length collection, Bending Light with Bare Hands, are woven from thunderstorms, omens, insomnia—even the telltale signs of a body in slow decline. With language that manages the oxymoronic feat of being both concise and lavish, the poet takes an unflinching look at subjects that include depression, loneliness, and the longing to hold on to memories, even while acknowledging their unreliable nature. If Prather puts his faith in anything, it is in the gods of this world, who inhabit the bodies of hummingbirds, katydids, bats, and mockingbirds, who weave their beds with bindweed and ivy, and write in the luminescent script of fireflies, constellations, and even headlights. This collection quickly and unrelentingly distinguishes itself, elevating the quotidian into meditations on love, mortality, and mental health. Prather is a poet who has hit his stride. I have seldom been more pleased to lend my name to a book's cover."
—Frank Paino

"Written throughout the pandemic, this essential journal of poems is an intimate account of restless days spent attempting hope on the south side of Parkersburg, West Virginia. A sense of impending doom, rendered though it is with wonder, wit, and wounded amusement, lingers long after lockdown. 'Every little ache in the body/ becomes a symptom' that cannot be ignored; every little sliver of light seems a reprieve, yet it remains 'hard not to believe we/ are being punished.' In a world that all too often 'refuses to give us/ what we need,' Prather masterfully melds myth and memory, fire-and-brimstone brow-beatings, folklore, flawed family legacies, and the bittersweet lessons of a lifetime into luminous verse that verges on salvation."
—Randi Ward

"Bending Light with Bare Hands, David B. Prather's sophomore collection, illuminates in a world of shadows. Moving seamlessly from the everyday to the deepest questions of our time, Prather is as comfortable growing heirloom tomatoes and cooking his grandmother's vegetable soup as he is grappling with dark matter and the injustices of species extinction. 'If I had wings, I would be a nightbird, and I would sing to bring down the stars' he writes. No need for such dramatic transformation—these poems sing and leave us basking in their glow."
—Denton Loving