Stalagmites stalactites
Tactile memories burned off cut out frozen in time with the music-

Barnacles growing on pylon
Piled on thoughts
Of survival
Of living
A captured moment between space and time

Looking out over another sunrise
Rapt in the flocculent
Purple haze of the Orange Blossom’s
Trail of tears

The fires of Helios challenged to burn off the fog
Of another brumal night of

That tan man over there
In the shadows of the stay-weekly motel
Breathing in breathing out
Deep belly breaths
A swami
Arms raised to a sky in midwinter mourning

Whispering prayers
Whispering whispering hushed breaths
Whispering for a youthful hopefulness
Long since crushed and squeezed into the juice of a daily-breader

Now lit in orange and green
Across a hallway in O-Town’s
Last chance for

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, Winter in Florida, 2018


The nouveau leaves of trees brushing against each other like the long grey tails of coats of unknown people,
On East 42nd,
On a cold, bustling Monday morning in Manhattan,
Rushing to get to where they’ve got to get to,
Before the getting’s gone,

Memories wrestled out on a Sunday afternoon
By dancing, bouncing patterns of light on closed eyelids,
Bliss of golden yellows reminiscent of a kiss, held in a painting hanging somewhere, between The Neue and a museum in Vienna,

Now and again breaking between the pages of a book,
Aloft in a dreamy state of being,
A Soul drifting in the space between:
remembering and forgetting
and want of escape,
On the wings of a jet plane powered only
by the lambent lust that remains of this golden afternoon.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, May, 2017