tiny poems by Grant Hackett
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.
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.