hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: Swings
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2007/06/revised-poem.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Tuesday, June 12, 2007. You never grew so big. That the world outside. Could tear you apart. When you dropped out. Onto it like a newly. Inside was so soft -. It protected, encased. But the outside world. Had a way of getting in. What it already was;. Days were no longer ours. The world closed in. On your stick-thin frame. What could have been. I haven't read you in a while. But this morning, i am glad i read you again! But then the wood pigeons.
hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: untitled poem
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2006/10/untitled-poem.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Monday, October 02, 2006. And all at once. Once, you plucked. A thorn from this bush,. Tomorrow, there I will be. Than these days. Battered. Are the ones winding. A step at a time. Thin air and long waits. So good to read your words clare! They take me back from office stupor to myself stupor inside, more familiar. Monday and to read you, a clear mix ala clare now. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile.
hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: Fear Of drowning
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2006/05/fear-of-drowning.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Tuesday, January 02, 2007. What if the book and the pen must become my only lover? What if no one else will be able to… love me this way… make love to me this way… with the power of such feeling? A thousand valiant horses pounding on my brain, dizzying sex like opium or headlights, flushed breath, insane noises, all flock towards me… eaten by birds). Is this horrifying beauty? Is this the only way? Already, no one sees me for dust these days. Take ...
hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: the stars outside are shouting my name
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2007/08/stars-outside-are-shouting-my-name.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Thursday, August 23, 2007. The stars outside are shouting my name. I get my laces twisted up;. My face, lit up. By what's shining in yours. You say: I've got to go. Messing with my zip, I say:. If you're going, then go. And light a cigarette,. Forgetting I don't smoke;. Get up to make coffee. But the fridge is empty. The stink from the pan. Comes sweet and sickly,. Like a man's last rites. When his end's come too quickly. Leave the window half-open.
hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: I, Eleanor
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-eleanor.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Friday, December 01, 2006. I, Eleanor, give birth to a forest,. Chipmunks and cicadas, antelope and fur. Spilling from the white blades of my thighs. Into red soreness, brash air. Leaves are my eyes,. Sunlight slashes my mind,. And all that I birth. Will come back singing again,. The fox and the sycamore, chaffinch and wren. This ground is pulled down, fretted and spent,. A toad in its brown paper skin. Feeds at my breast, belching. Arms, legs,.
hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: frail, we (for Mum)
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2006/07/frail-we.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Thursday, February 08, 2007. Frail, we (for Mum). You were the littlest bird. I'd ever seen;. I touched your head. Around our garden again. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Frail, we (for Mum). You Were My Girl. Simple template. Powered by Blogger.
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Hunter Is Asleep: Evensong
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2006/10/evensong.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Sunday, October 01, 2006. On a cold wooden bench,. As the sign of the cross. Today I love you. No more, no less. Than any other day. Today, you breathe. You’ve always breathed. Yet you are not the same. Your breath is not the same,. And the air is wilting. You said all year. How you dreaded the. How you couldn't believe. And my sister calls you. Just to hear you. Just to wish you. Much to me if you. For crying over you this way. Put it in a box.
hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: Mumps
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2007/06/mumps.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Saturday, September 08, 2007. Mumps, I tickle. What’s left of your fur:. King losing his crown. On the stinking rug,. Thin graft of lamplight. Lights up the fire, as. The Racing Post, concurs. This here dog’s life is passing…'. Mumps, your paw is rotten,. Soon to be like liver. Hanging in a butcher’s shop. We wait for Seams to sharpen. His claw, his jack,. To clean the molten tacks,. As his trolley squeaks;. As charcoal reddens your eye.
hunterisasleep.blogspot.com
Hunter Is Asleep: Pavlova
http://hunterisasleep.blogspot.com/2007/09/pavlova.html
Poetry, fiction and song. inviting comment and critique. Monday, January 01, 2007. I watch your face change. Like a smooth stone,. Water running over;. A sleepy East European village. I’d sat in that same cafe. Six months earlier,. Examining every ice cream flavour –. Toffee, apple pie, raspberry pavlova. I'd felt it coming,. Like the pull of moon on tides. Or a sure bet on ‘Lucky Numbers’. He'd said, face changing. An ocean rushing over;. Like downpours in July,. Like men taking up arms.
