Jason E. Hodges's Blog, page 16

Harvesting Bones

“Harvesting bones is a good job!”
At least I’m told this by a lady in the break room
She wears Docs or something close
And has a ring in each side of her nose
Once
I asked her if she was into punk rock
She said, “No, I’m into nature.”
I liked her answer
It was the most punk thing she could have said
I thanked her for the job info
Then made my way back to the time clock
As I worked, I thought
Anywhere would be better than here
Or would it?
Plenty haunts me in my sleep
Without adding to it
Somehow
Harvesti...

His Feet

I gave my shoes to a homeless man
The other day
For I knew
I had another pair at home
And
He had no home
What covered his feet
Were not fit for wearing
Much less walking
I’ve seen the look in his eyes before
I understood his gaze
More than most ever will
For
The gaze of the hungry
Cuts through
All the red tape of humanity
Of the presentation from the presenters
That all is perfect in this world
Yet
All is not perfect
But if we help the ones less fortunate
Things will get better
We are all burning stars...

Uncomfortable Smile

I see the young men and women
Coming back from the war
They all have that uncomfortable smile
My uncle had it
Korea gave him his
The war somehow froze his face
Gave his eyes a sometimes lost stare
An old friend of mine took a bayonet in the stomach
He was also shot in the back
Vietnam froze his face, as well
He said, they used to place an Ace of Spades
In the front pocket of the men they killed
He said, the ace symbol meant death in their world
He said a lot of things
But talking about it didn’t unfre...

Bare Tree Songs

Mockingbirds perched atop
Treetops of elms
Sitting upon their barren twigs
Barren, for winter has now consumed us
The leaves have fallen and the grass is again dead
Brown
Lifeless from the freeze
Lifeless from the cold wind blowing day and night
The ground seeps steam as the first rays of light appear
As the sun creeps over it
Like a cat stalking its prey
Dull, like a dying flashlight at first
Then bright in the midday sky
In a sky so blue
You feel like you’re falling into an ocean
When you gaze upw...

Peace Sign Crucifixion

The Peace Sign
Was a symbol for
Peter’s upside-down death
His Crucifixion
Yet
His death was really right-side up
As he ascended into heaven
To sit with his father
At least this was what my mother told me
She said
This was the true meaning of the hippie’s fork in a circle
It was confusing for my young mind to wrap around
How could this be a meaning of peace?
Of love?
How?
A man nailed to a cross then hung upside-down to slowly die
How could this be a symbol for the children of flowers?
Was their tie-dye...

Daniel Jones, Toronto’s Son

For some
The words of a poem
The words that are scratched out
In-between
The light blue lined pages of a notebook
Sitting in the booth of some all-night diner
Have to be written
Have to be told
For the poet
For the writer
It’s a drive that comes from the center of their soul
To explain the world that surrounds them
Some say, it’s a gift
I say
It’s a necessity as much as breathing
To reflect what’s before them
Like a mirror
Like a photo
Like the dark rippled water you gaze over
As it laps softly at your...

The Room

Four walls spotted
With dingy filth from the workers
Blue drip sanitation its only defense
Someone has scratched the word love into the wall
But who on earth could love someone in this room?
Maybe it was just something pleasant to say
In an unpleasant time
To make someone feel loved
Or maybe not
Fire sprinklers hang from the ceiling
They look like dust covered spurs from a cowboy boot
Red wax in their center waits for the temperature to climb
So it can melt and extinguish the flames with cool comical...

My Mothers My Fathers

William S. Burroughs, my father
Harry Crews, my father
Charles Bukowski, my father
Sylvia Plath, my mother
Anne Sexton, my mother
Anais Nin, my teacher
Teaching me
All the understanding of a woman in love
A woman in lust
These writers and many more were the family who never changed their opinions
They were friends to me without conditions
They never left when times grew hard
Never needed more than their books to be read
Their stories to be told
My literary family
With their worn-out covers and tatter...

Eagles And Breathing

I saw an eagle yesterday
On my way to catch my breath
For, my breath had left me
Gone again
From the curse called asthma
It feels like someone is choking you, you know?
Like the devil himself has your airway in his hands
Slowly squeezing it shut
With his long boney fingers
It’s like breathing through a coffee straw
All while trying to do your everyday routine
Trying to stay composed while the oxygen disappears from your blood
Your breathing becomes deliberate as a lie
Yet, it’s always the small thing...

Mother Of Pearl

The Sky
Looks like mother of pearl today
But tomorrow
Rain will fall
Like stones from heaven
Bleeding
All of its color away
Something so beautiful
So perfect
Changes
With the simple blowing of the wind
It seems
We all do things in this world we regret
Even things
That make the angels cover their eyes  
And
Sometimes
It feels like rock bottom
Has become
A bottomless pit
But the cards will be shuffled
And will eventually
Be stacked in your favor
The sky will smear with colors once again
Purple wi...