Jason E. Hodges's Blog, page 19
October 24, 2014
My Correspondence With Angels And Demons
I drowned once, you know?
I was a sandy blond child in the muddy waters of Georgia
The tobacco cut knife had been put down for the day
Sticky with nicotine sap coating its curved blade
The men and women had come in from the fields
In from the sea of green leaves roasting in the southern sun
The workers gathered their families
Around the irrigation pit
To relax
To swim
Somehow
Someway
I found myself falling in
My seven years of living did not include learning how to swim
Not even tread wate...
October 14, 2014
The Writerly Blog Tour : Jason E. Hodges
The Writerly Blog Tour has come my way thanks to Liz Worth. She is not only a writer I greatly admire but a friend who has helped me from coming unraveled in some of the worst times.
What I’m working on.
I’m working on a new paranormal book that was actually a short story I wrote about ten years ago. It was never sent away to a contest or submitted to a publisher. I was three chapters into a different book I was writing and had to put it aside. The time just wasn’t right to finish it. If...
July 25, 2014
Petals Falling : A Book Of Poems By Jason E. Hodges
How can one describe a book of poetry? It’s art! It may be one of the most subjective forms of writing someone can do. I could say something like, “See what Hodges sees when he writes while looking out into a skyline bleeding pink and red from the last rays of a crimson winter sunset,” but would this convince you that this book would be worth reading? I could say, “He’s influenced by, Poe, Plath, Sexton, Nin, and Bukowski,” but would this convince you he is a poet worth reading? So the best w...
July 1, 2014
Poem : Foul Hooked
Sometimes in life
We can become
Foul hooked
On the line
So they say
When you’re fishing
And realize the barb
Has disappeared
Deep into your flesh
You don’t want to believe
What your eyes are seeing
Then
You feel it!
What’s left of the rancid bait
That once coated the hook’s exterior
Is now
Starting to slough off into your bloodstream
Like a poison dart
Like venom
From a pit viper’s hollow fangs
At this point
The only thing to do
Is to push it through the other side
It’s more painful to pull back
Yet
Al...
June 23, 2014
Brandon Graham : Good For Nothing
Larry Brown once said, “You take what you're given, whether it's the cornfields of the Midwest or the coal mines of West Virginia, and you make your fiction out of it. It's all you have. And somehow, wherever you are, it always seems to be enough.”
Brandon Graham’s book, Good For Nothing, is an incredible read. Like Brown, he has an uncanny ability to sculpt his writing from the world he sees every day. His words are strong and drowning in truth.
Book Description from Amazon: “In Flip Mellis'...
June 16, 2014
Poem : Tongueless Lions
Walking today
I passed by
Two lions with no tongues
Their mouths gaped open
Showing their dagger-like teeth
Made of stone
They stood watch
At the mouth of Matanzas Bay
Watching the tourists pass by
With their flip-flops
Greeting each step they took
With a light thud to their heel
Oversized visors adorn their heads
Like crowns
They are worn
By the rulers of the child army
That follow behind them
Little Tommy
Little John
Fight with plastic swords
While
Little Jane rolls her eyes
At their behavior
I’m g...
June 10, 2014
Poem : The Shadow Of Bela Lugosi
The bells
Of the church tower
Ring out
Across the town’s square
Echoing down dead-end alleyways
And the overhangs of stone buildings
The morning fog is disappearing
Evaporating before my eyes
From the reflective rays of ocean sunlight
As I walk
I see a homeless man lying on a bench
Lighting one cigarette off another
Yet
The one he is lighting isn’t much longer
Than the one he’s discarding
Freebees off the ground I suppose
Then a man calls out to me
“You’re too young to be walking with a cane.”
I smiled...
June 1, 2014
May 31, 2014
Poem : Sleep Deprived Nights
The digital clock
In my room reads 3:13 AM
These red numbers of time smear in my vision
My sleep-filled eyes
Make them look like blurry orange butterflies
With flapping wings made of electricity
Or maybe miniature fireworks exploding
In the bent plastic face of the clock
I fall into sleep again
Tumbling into a pit of unconsciousness
I awake once more to see the clock now reads 10:08 AM
Its cast glow of numbered lights
Now look like playing cards facedown
The longer I gaze the more distorted they beco...
May 12, 2014
Poem : Letter To Tom Waits
Tom Waits, Tom Waits
Won’t you have a drink with me?
Or maybe a smoke?
For, I feel my career is now at a crossroads
Yet
Some would say it’s just begun
So why not
Have a drink on the town?
I’ve done every job imaginable
To not have any other title than writer
Well
Artist is an acceptable title too
I did what it took
To pay the bills
Cause scribbling words for a living
Ain’t much of a living
But all is well
For the night still holds the stars
The moon still climes high in the sky
Making the broken g...
