Category Archives: 2011 A Virtual Chapbook

a collection for National Poetry Month 2011

2011 A Virtual Chapbook

Whispering, “Rain!”

In this dry year,
the cottonwood leaves linger
late in December.
They rattle
a parched prayer
or poem, perhaps.

Whispering, “rain,”
they stay long past
their fellows fallen
into mulch in the gutter.

Whispering, “rain,”
they cling to their post
on sacred duty.

Whispering, “rain,”
they cannot let go
as clouds gather.

Whispering, “rain,”
they will not drop
until they are answered.

Whispering, “Rain!”

mjh

12/16/02

Listen to Whispering, “Rain!” (35 seconds)

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

2011 A Virtual Chapbook, The Atheist's Pulpit

this simple truth

I wish the stories all were true
that we love to tell
and I could be again with you
in Heaven or in Hell.
That I could be again with you,
and all our friends as well,
would bring the greatest joy to me
in Heaven or in Hell.

But we all know this simple truth
that on this earth we dwell
in measured days of age and youth
not Heaven nor in Hell. mjh

1/13/06

For my Mom, who taught me language and love.

Listen to this simple truth

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

2011 A Virtual Chapbook

Songdogs

I met a couple
on the breathless trail
to Pueblo Alto.
They were dressed identically
in long-sleeve white shirts
and khaki-colored nylon pants —
oddly well-groomed in a wild place.
They grinned at me
as they approached,
and I thought I heard her say,
"Hello, Mark."
But how? Did I know them?
I asked how they were and she replied,
"Wonderful. How about you?"
She sang her words
like someone unfamiliar
with human speech.
Only then did I recognize them —
coyotes are so clever. mjh

3/31/10

Listen to Songdogs

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)

2011 A Virtual Chapbook

the cure

my old friend
is worried about me
coughing roughly
deep in the night
he stands by the bed
searching my face
for a cue
a clue to my
senseless barking
barking
he paces the floor
for hours
he sniffs my hand
ingesting my malady
to concoct the cure
which he administers
in slow soft licks;
“be well, old friend
the pack is with you.”
and I am well again. mjh

3/17/2005

Listen to the cure

My Virtual Chapbook (table of contents)