IT

Hit me like a wall of vacant water
Frozen tsunami of grey clouds brushing impasto over a sunrise
Shrieking against cordial brumal sands
Of time

Plunged on a shrinking crepuscular canvas of
Clocks melting over the bough
Of an orange tree
Leafless
A la Dali
A jamais vu?

I’ve been here before
I grew up here
In this gaping gripping gasping whole of absence
Deeper than the hole he was buried in
Now his home amongst the mossy oaks
And anamnesis of civil war.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines,
9 January 2018

 

 

Kee-ahh Kee-ahh

There they were like stuffed cicada
Little artifacts of remembrance
Taxidermic witnesses of yesteryear
O’ Memory

Echoes of their summer songs in the distant horizon greeting
Sunset painted skies of glorious pinks purples oranges and reds
Colouring the lake with the paint brush strokes of the golden gods of light and lustre
Juices of tangelos sweet sour
Sour sweet
Tango across taste buds awake

Sticky fingers sticky hands pursed lips
Scents of fruit warming nostrils with joy
The buzzing bzzzssszzz of honey bees Dancing the orange blossom special
Filling ears with magical musical moments
O’ memory

Walks to the lake
Hands in the dirt
Ladders in the trees
Salty smells
Soil sweat humidity
Sowing seeds pushing out
Pains of broken family

Into
Another sunset

As the red-shouldered hawk cries
Kee-ahh kee-ahh kee-ahh
Without tears,
All day outside my window
While I’m writing this
With Snyder’s Turtle Island in my lap
And my kitten by my side
Purring Russian on the futon

O’ Memory
O’ Memory

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, February, 2017