Right Write

Pantoums and sapphics 
elude me long after a meal 
of Blue Points and rosé.

This tanka must slide from night
into day, the grand unknown.

HFA©2014

holespoles:

Illustrations by Niō Mizushima for a Japanese edition of ‘Journey to the West’ (c. 1950)
水島 爾保布「絵本西遊記」
Journey to the West - 50 Watts

holespoles:

Illustrations by Niō Mizushima for a Japanese edition of ‘Journey to the West’ (c. 1950)

水島 爾保布「絵本西遊記」

Journey to the West - 50 Watts

(via klappersacks)

Lucille Clifton Tanka

She memorized lines
mid child rearing and laundry.
Oh, concise glory.

I pray each day my words will
cause you chills she still gifts me.

HFA©2014

Day Break Tanka

Up before the birds.
Already fighting a bad
day. Too in my head.

This crazy quilt my mother made
comforts me close to her hug.

HFA©2014

Textual Fight

I had no idea 
how remarkably bad this 
day could be; it struck

so quickly I was
not prepared for an onslaught- 
passive aggressive

words. Thank god oysters
await me at home. Shucking
gathers catharsis. 

HFA©2014

Sirkosky


The musk you carry 
beyond sleep creates a nook-
your graciousness.

I curl, chin-tucked, safer than
this world wants us to believe.

HFA©2014

Tags: tanka safe love

Existential Crisis

What are these goddamned nearing thirties? I am listening to Nick Drake’s Pink Moon and lamenting new-found skin rashes, the crow’s-feet-migrating-spider webs. 

And, here, what do I have to show for my hard-pressed megalomania as a child/teen/young adult? Retirement plan/fuck given - 0. Travelled - 0. Finished four classes toward a B.A. in English - 0. Making much art - 0. 

I could blame a shitty lot in life, a better method of coping with past trauma than self-destructing/medicating, but what’s the fucking point? Elliott Smith said, “Situations get fucked up…;” however, deal. Get tired of it; make a move or don’t. 

Late for Interview and Inchworm

Late for Interview and Inchworm 

I spy you, clinging,
perhaps probing the knife lip
of my car’s window.

Stretching fingertips,
you allude me- ‘u’ and ‘u’;
goodbye at fifty.

HFA©2014

Sock Solace

In the mornings, I 
steal your stocks, not because I 
do not have any

clean ones. Yours, always bleached,
forever immaculate.

HFA©2014