tiny poems by Grant Hackett
when i am new to the other dark :: shall i remember the face of light
sycamore shines like a skull. happy to be alone. alive.
we pull off our clothes. look far into each other.
see the moon feeding on desire.
these hands are like brothers. one weaker than the other.
one loved more. each understands gestures and shadow.
who is the one wounded whose wounds don't show?
the soul of a tree stands in a bit of amber.
as it stood in a promised rain. as all things begin
in silence and stone. where all our paths end.
at the end of life time unravels
into color. one discovers there are colors
that have never been inhabited.
a small horse leans into her juniper tree.
the man who never travelled peels himself from the wall.
a roof begins to leak. good fortune.
one silence holds shadow and sun.
some of spring's small teeth shall be my own
whose dying breath has washed ashore as bits of polished glass
a branch of sky breaks with a whisper the boy will never forget
snow is the joy i shovel
night dreams of a star climbing the cold crooked sky.
burden of dignity broken apart.
into a trembling bed where his heart will stop.
why taste red.
why write rain.
a woman and a man live alone together.
one body where death and the not yet real mingle.
beasts pass through their dreams without disturbing either soul.
the moon in their throat baying.