Episodes
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Unhinged (a seasonal poem)
The man rages red-faced, arms flailing, he sputters and fumes. Impotent fury. The wind blowing fiercely whips away his whining, rattles and flaps his windows and doors. Unhinged, he rants. His sensibility scatters in the rubble of his composure. The wind — this damn wind — wins. mjh Listen to...
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Wind Makes Crazy (a timely poem)
The raven preaches from above his dark robes spread he tells his tale again “I am the black rock, the Land full of subtle, fragile life!” Shouting out from his piñon pulpit the choir in the cholla a meadowlark waiting to sing today’s hymns “I am the dark wind, the Breath that spins the world!” …...
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101°
101° Glenn Gould plays Bach as I step on that distant shore. Handing my coppers to the boatman, I look up the bank for you among the crowd scanning the new arrivals for old friends to lead across the fields when the dog barks — 1 head, not 3 — I’m not dead yet, as … Continue reading 101° →
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at this very moment
If you are wondering what I am doing at this very moment: I am writing a poem that might be read long after I’m dead by someone not yet born, so that I might know what they are doing at this very moment. mjh 3/08 Listen to at this very moment My Virtual Chapbook (table … Continue reading at this...
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Icarus
I first knew something had changed when I thought, “my wing has fallen asleep” — my wing? I sat up heavily. The dog ran from the room as I spread my wings out six feet either side of my body (no exaggeration). I ran from the house and all the birds for miles were silent. … Continue reading Icarus →
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Relentless
A stone sits midstream — immovable object parting the waters that seem to yield to solid. But soft water works wonders polishing with relentless caress rubbing out roughness erasing edges transforming the immovable with the irresistible turning boulder into a pebble you turn in your palm and…
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slumber
at night the wolves wait on my temples for the elk to venture from my sparse hairline onto my forehead instantly, the pack pursues the herd some escape into the thicket of my eyebrows as the rest charge across the curve of my cheek longing for the forest of my beard I sleep through the … Continue...
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The Bright Side
“When he’s dead,” she says, “I’ll finally get that dishwasher.” “And when she’s dead,” he says, “I’ll knock a pass-thru to the kitchen.” Either could have what they want now but these are little improvements they can look forward to as if one day the end of the world could have a bright side like…
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The Heaven of Animals
The meadow is his home now. Up high in the mountains, he lies in the shade in a circle of trees among the wild iris. He yawns and stretches, flips over and rolls and rolls, groaning in pleasure in the tall sweet grass. At any moment he will sit up, alert, ears sharp, sniffing the … Continue…
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Dickey
He caught an adolescent’s mind with sex and wreckage, a tragic fall, and the grotesque sheep child. His was poetry deformed and twisted and I could not look away. I had no words of my own no tongue for lust or sorrow mouth open but mute horny as hell afraid I was ugly sure that … Continue reading...
About this show
"It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people's minds." -- Sam Adams