Erik Hansen's Blog, page 12

Sand

         

 

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

Trash Day

  

The orange garbage truck

Squeals, hisses and beeps

Its stink alone

Obviously not enough

To announce its 

Garish arrival.

© Erik Hansen 2015

Skin

  

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

4-18

  

             4-18

Salient soldiers seeking

Fierce Fomorian foes.

Thread

  

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

Vernal

  

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

Asphalt

  

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

Folly Bridge

  

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

Ink

  

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

Four Twelve

  

       

Sixty degrees fahrenheit

Sun soaked skin

Warmed through

To your toes

Blood moves

Molasses

A nap

Sounds pretty good

Right now.

4/12/15