Its a long, dry walk
Across shifting sands
Thirsty and tired
Of all the dust and grit
Its in your boots
Your socks
Your shirt and pants
Your underwear
In your hair and up your nose
You feel it in your ear canals
Across your lips
A grungy mask you can never wash away
Like the crackling shouts
Of the Muezzin
Over the loudspeakers
Full of sand
And dust muted colors of the tattered clothes
That haunt your speckled dreams.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
The orange garbage truck
Squeals, hisses and beeps
Its stink alone
Obviously not enough
To announce its
Garish arrival.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Spirits shifting places
Books gathering dust
Clinging to curios
Arranged in methodic
Mystic order
Peel back the grin
Shed the familiar
Skin
Beneath it all
We are the same
The differences
Marvels and shame.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
4-18
Salient soldiers seeking
Fierce Fomorian foes.
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Slow down the years
A tired town lingers
Hanging on by just
A thread
Unravelled from a well worn
Coat that clings
To cardboard cut out
Scarecrow shoulders.
Broken apple crates
Lean in drunken stacks
And the green sea of suckers
Rises up in its hungry overgrowth
to swallow idle tractors
And broke wheeled wagons
By the hundreds.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
The pools are temporary
Full for a time
Drying up now, receding
They leave their stain
Upon the flattened leaves
Like symbols
The likenesses of Gods
Nearly forgotten
Ghosting the niches
In human consciousness
Trailing shared memories
Across the timeless skies
Watching, waiting
For their inevitable filling
To begin again.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Cracked pavement
Cracked sidewalks
The heat rises from it
Stinging smog drifts
Into itching eyes
Seek it out
That blossom striving forth
From the splits
In asphalt streams.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Spring days like this
Bring to mind brightly
Oxford, the Thames
Its murky waters put to shame
By the green, grassy banks
Sloping gently towards her
Pubs beckoned and we answered
Their gritty come ons
And whisky whispers
To stagger over
The Folly Bridge pints full
Your tight wire act amusing
Even after the silence
Then the splash
As you tumbled off
And in.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
The distinction lies
Within the paragraph
Each sentence
Handed down
Read line by line
Between them too
Perspective becomes
A line to cross
A lie to fabricate
A conversation initiated
Upon a point
Decided on
A heavy pen
Poised
Over Dollar Store paper
A nickel plated dream
Rusted in their minds.
© Erik Hansen 2015
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Sixty degrees fahrenheit
Sun soaked skin
Warmed through
To your toes
Blood moves
Molasses
A nap
Sounds pretty good
Right now.
4/12/15
Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing
Edges 