poems by mjh

Dickey

Tue 04/24/12 at 5:19 am

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 the world was.
He confirmed that and
changed it in the process.
The long fall turned beautiful
in the end because
any horror could be faced
and become a poem. mjh

18Apr97

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I wrote this poem 14 years ago today. James Dickey died January 19, 1997. He was among the first modern poets I studied and enjoyed. I tipped my hat to him with my version of The Heaven of Animals.

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Listen to Dickey

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

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In Poems:
Newer: The Heaven of Animals
Older: flea
Tags: poets

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flea

Mon 04/23/12 at 7:47 am

From afar
I am drawn
to this mountain.
I step on his feet,
climb his knee,
over his hip,
and run along his long spine,
up between great shoulders.
Ahead I face the summit.
From his crown
I look down
and around
and around.
Here near his ear
I listen to silence
and breathe the cold light
as a flea on a giant. mjh

1/4/2005

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Listen to flea

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

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In Poems:
Newer: Dickey
Older: tuck
Tags: macro, mountains, nature

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tuck

Sun 04/22/12 at 9:21 pm

Sometimes I arise
before dawn
and in those first few moments
I am six again
alone in the endless dark
not quite afraid but
far from mommy and home.
That innocence passes
more quickly this time
with the coming of the light
the radio informs
as the coffee cooks
and I tuck that child
safely back into
his corner of my head:
shh-shh
it’s ok
go back to sleep. mjh

10/27/2005

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Listen to tuck

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

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In Poems:
Newer: flea
Older: Bask
Tags: childhood, dawn, sleep

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Bask

Sat 04/21/12 at 10:47 pm

like nervous reptiles
skittering among the rocks
safe haven
but never secure
warmed from the outside
animated by a distant source
a shadow freezes and frightens us
we run for the light,
pause, bask,
before slipping into darkness mjh

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Listen to bask

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

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In Poems:
Newer: tuck
Older: some lesser poet
Tags: nature

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some lesser poet

Thu 04/19/12 at 10:47 pm

At Poetica Autowerks, we know
when you have miles to go
nothing gets you there
as rhythmically as a Frost.
While the Whitman leaves
little to desire,
kick the tire
of the new Emerson –
It’s transcendental!

Or maybe some lesser poet
can get you there
if you don’t care
where you go
or how slow. mjh

11/14/04

In honor of all the unknown poets out there, unlisted at poetry.org, unpublished except on the back of envelopes. Write on! The only thing worse than unread is unwritten. Happy Poetry Month to all. peace, mjh

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Listen to some lesser poet

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

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In Poems:
Newer: Bask
Older: choke
Tags: poetica, poets

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choke

Wed 04/18/12 at 10:47 pm

What about those poems
I never wrote?
Ideas unborn,
left to float
like pollen in the air.
Those unsung poems
coat my throat
and cloud my thoughts
with possibilities.
I wheeze
and sneeze
and blow my chance. mjh

2/9/2005

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Listen to Choke (seconds)

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

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In Poems:
Newer: some lesser poet
Older: going home

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going home

Tue 04/17/12 at 9:47 pm

I never thought
how noisy it would be:
the wind through my feathers
squeaks and rustles
as I pull and release
my wings like
a rower through air.
Pull and lift and fly,
rest and soar and drop.
Now an angel,
now Icarus.
My place determined
by my own strength.

Now rowing,
now sailing through
the breath of the world.
My wings grow larger with every beat.
They become clouds.
Only now am I free
of Icarus’ fate.

There is nothing quite
like going home. mjh

2005? [Previously published on: Apr 16, 2006]

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Listen to Going Home (36 seconds)

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

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In Poems:
Newer: choke
Older: Sharp
Tags: breath, clouds, feathers, flying, home, Icarus, wind, wings

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