“George’s problem is he’s too affectionate
– he expresses himself”
one woman confided loudly
in a restaurant
unlike the usual complaint
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Copyright 2015
Tag: Poetry
PRELUDE & FUGUE 48/
with fiddles and crows
tracing a map of yellow leaves
* * *
on a map of frosted snow
three crows with their fiddles
in the crown of their living
of a rock face map, frosted snow
three crows with their fiddles
in the crown of their living rock face
on a map, frosted snow, three crows
with their fiddles in the crown
out of their rock face, tracing some life
atop scree, another one at the bottom, wintergreen
~*~
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see all 50 Preludes & Fugues, click here.
HOW THE STREAMS CAME TO THE SEA
I come to the sea a stranger
a person of a different religion
learning to eat at one table
these days, one who dwells inland
as far as the tide retreats
the passion of the moon
with its heartbeat and home and
those who have been torn and uprooted
will sense this
no image holds the tide
the moon, then, must do
somehow resembling the moon I knew first in Ohio
and later, in sagebrush desert
all things who move furtively in the night
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of seacoast poems, click here.
DREYS WITHOUT LICHEN
stack neatly three cords of stove wood
for kitchen heating (ache, diddly ache)
with no idea how much they’ll need for winter
learn to use a variable-speed screwdriver,
far from expertly, while hanging drywall and doors
(ache, diddly ache)
the plumbers finally show for a day
installing a new boiler just before
the season’s first hard cold snap
and now, having switched, the price
of natural gas price shoots up
still, his Lady of Yard Sale Bargains cites
environmental advantages before
terrifying Halloween trick-or-treaters
and Big Brush Fire No. 2 reduces
three more huge piles to ash and
His Lady of Princess Pink costumes herself as a hippie
to his glowing relief, after the Britney Spears
she’d been threatening
but first, there’s the push to paint the new rooms
in the barn and then lay vinyl in its bathroom
(ache, diddly ache)
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Home Maintenance poems, click here.
SPIRAL SHELL
reading the inscription on your tombstone
an abandoned road soon becomes impassible
except on foot or horseback
dumplings, broiled, steamed, and fried involving pork, chicken,
Chinese cabbage, tofu. more ginger and any amount of
garlic, scallions, bamboo shoots, and water chestnuts
a bronze bespattered snake
coils elegantly
through an alligator-skin sandal
nothing funny about us, just practical and direct
“maker dressing toe,” she
she was so bold
a mechanical hand made of maps and a yardstick
SHAKE
Edward Steichen’s portrait of Leopold Stokowski in profile
a human heart just one shade redder
a place to savor and crave
mechanical dancing dolls
shaving pennies
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Partitas, click here.
IN THE FINE PRINT
oh, stranger
you seem to expect a believer will forgive anybody
you seem to think a devotee must forgive everybody
you seem to presume a saint can forgive all
but it’s nothing you attempt in return
* * *
oh, stranger, there are conditions
according to Jesus
if you ask
we can begin
and if you express regret
and if you turn course
and do good actions
we can truly begin
if you want any forgiveness between us
we can begin gently working
according to Jesus
* * *
but if you think forgiveness is a license
to come back
the way you were, to continue harming
and hurting others
you’re mistaken
oh, sinner
forgiveness begins by admitting the mirror
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set, click here.
WANT DO YOU WANT FOR QUARTERS?
All the fat girls in town
had congregated in this Laundromat
to giggle at a skinny hippie.
When they sat, mouths agape,
stomachs bulged more than their breasts.
Everywhere, there’s a pecking order.
The manager in her blue scarf and coat
fluttered in to chase neighborhood children out.
“They mess the place up. I don’t want them.”
Kids, kids, kids, she muttered
raking in quarters – all this bitterness
robed in garments of honey and bees.
As for me, another day,
another dollar, down the drain.
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Copyright 2015
PRELUDE & FUGUE 50/
sprawled on the floor, a barefoot bride without makeup
* * *
along with a martial arts master sprawled out
on the floor a barefoot bride without
makeup everyone you knew thought
it only a fragile joke and then
you pulled the trigger: blood runs
toward the tub drain what made you think
I had any clue what was afoot? martial arts student
sprawled out on the floor, a barefoot bride
without makeup, everyone thinking it only fragile
joke blood running toward the tub drain what
made you think I had any clue what was afoot?
a martial arts master sprawled out on the floor
a barefoot bride without makeup everyone you
knew thought it was only a fragile joke
blood runs toward the tub drain? what made you think
I had any clue what was afoot?
kick higher, kick higher
from the floor
~*~
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see all 50 Preludes & Fugues, click here.
ALWAYS SOMETHING
1
a decrepit mess / pit
put them away
a cat, a dog, an auto executioner
gone, finally, by dawn
desperate houses plunked down in rock face
where will everyone live?
2
Warren Farm’s disastrous pick-your-own corn experiment
DeMerritt Hill Farm now owned by New York City refugees
who need to make the mortgage
while I’ve planted
blueberries, raspberries, asparagus, pussy willow,
rosa rugosa
the laurel and rhododendron that didn’t survive
all mine, all the same, within some inexplicable current
3
gentleness versus meanness
anger (I’m angry all the time)
RITUAL
versus
SURPRISE
Wild Willy’s still closed on Sundays
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Copyright 2015
STRAIGHT AND NARROW
there is much to admire in the unembellished line
when true
Squirrel, who would drive a crooked furrow
in a place where only the best horses
may be proud without sinning
has strayed much as a black bear past midnight
after the spring lambing
* * *
maybe he could have built a dairy herd
milked in a white-walled shed
given the right partner, who would not weep
over bank statements where the only green
would be choked with weeds
his life fenced in, a private Eden
stacked with moldy bales
to slip into rubber boots and shovel
his way back, behind him
* * *
but the scoutmaster was right
Squirrel’s not handy, that way
with wrenches or wiring
or even bent nails, much less
some ballgame or ice skates
no wonder the world was wide open
to the embroidery of his mind
when he had nothing to hold on to
these things shape one’s direction
as much as any opportunity
* * *
today’s American farmer
is a mechanic, electrician, carpenter,
accountant, designer before
the crops and herds matter
Poem copyright 2016 by Jnana Hodson
To see the full set of Home Maintenance poems, click here.
Jnana's Red Barn 