tiny poems by Grant Hackett
a prayer which bleeds each time it prays. whose child is slow,
unfinished, without birth. whose road is empty except for stone.
a small flame flickers beneath the stars. remembering it is lost.
a fist of clouds burst the heart. everything in wind
became theft. everywhere was music but silent. how
do broken branches become a vernal cross. and now there is autumn.
around a careless noise in the shallow of night
absence and weaknesses pool. does every mouth not listen?
to hear the sighs of flesh dissolve beneath the rusted tongues of bridges.
a finger of water circles the earth, taps on rock
near a motionless man. air gently ripped by pines.
injuries without weight. blood on the rock.
snow is falling over the past. over the wild
cosmos garden. a silver light keeps her feet from touching
the ground. how much of the moon has she swallowed.
autumn homes harvested
soil packed into yellow seed
mother leaves
water pulls my secrets deep into its pockets.
loves the drowning i do not love. survivor in strange
depths. where not all with eyes are alive.
it begins with a november rose. shadows stirring a bowl
of milky blood. wholeness and wild honey die slowly.
remembrance, our permanent home.
rain dreams the face of a sleeping lake. mists cross
the fleshy border. a wolf pine raises seven heads.
with splintered fangs. naked strong and ruined.
on the first day of life. there is no place that is not
someone else. the moon begins counting its
delicate birds. death stands alone in a field.
silence in a poem grows with not one
mystery less than needed. guardian of what
least understands. heart open to all. and to none.
moon shining through the corner of an open mouth. a ferris
wheel burning in the garden of night. grandmother looks older
than when she died. the child's eye relives. remembers.
leans into the wind examining life for wings.
at the center of being whispers swarm. hands
which cannot stop the little good gone wrong.
from a chair in the backyard. a mountain i've never
seen hides the orb that never changes. what happened
to my people who feared the ocean's edge.
stars pound on the roof but no one hears.
a lost soul settles to the benthic floor. polished
darkness. weight of silence. have mercy.
an oracle's river flows from the sea. water
no one sees. yet i feel a body beneath my feet.
like walking on a snake. cold as the flesh of shadow.