Hudson’s Latest Work
Tag: Stars
While You Are Watching Netflix
he is pondering the sound of crickets, he swims outside every night, listening to the rubbing of wings, chirps, we call them, mating sounds, darkness attraction, he has noticed the transition from october to december, dissipating insects, a little less with each cold night, moon fattens, sheds light, then gradually disappears, grows full again, & all the while you are indoors, scrolling through trending & top picks for you, top 10 movies, looking for answers, a way to kill time, exist, alone, or with ice cream, your screen escape, watching drama, violence, comedy, night after night, hoping for something good, something that matters, meanwhile, he’s outside contemplating dusk, counting stars as they appear in the sky, you ask, why? he pauses to reflect, each evening is different, is his reply.
Cold Water Swimming & Coyotes
swimming centers me, fallen japanese maple leaves sink in water, nestle between my toes, stick to shoulders, i am a leaf magnet, like the man feeding pigeons in central park, the tree likes me, i think, gifts from above, cold water thoughts, staring at stars, nameless constellations, pump arms and legs harder, keep the heart moving blood to numb fingers, i have a rock on pool’s ledge for coyotes, but i would never throw anything, maybe splash or yell, coyotes won’t visit, worries disappear, this is a good night.
With Or Without You
love before love, in the front yard with my telescope, 14 years old, pondering love, abstract love, not attached to anyone kind of love, pretend love, while looking at cratered moon, wondering if she is up there, or somewhere, U2 playing on my transistor radio, primordial longing for the one, hopeless romantic, summer night, movie scene in my head, where girl finds boy staring at stars, thinks, he is so deep, i love him.
Mosquito Bite No More
somehow mosquitoes know how to bite without being seen, back of the arm, an ankle, they love me and i love them back, sort of. let me explain. mosquitoes mean summer, they mean i’m outside, maybe by a sea, a pool, a river, a lake, or somewhere at night, under the moon, or stars, and i’m not paying attention to their fluttering about, their quest for blood, because at the moment they bite me, i don’t care. but then there is that sweet itch, the phantom slap, as if they were still sucking. a few minutes later i forget the bite, and rejoin the happenings of july or august. the next day i might itch the bite, or near the bite, contemplate how far the swelling has spread over skin, this can be tormenting and enthralling. sometimes i rub it with hydrocortisone cream, sometimes i drown it in scalding water so it itches even more. it is my souvenir, my summer tattoo. a couple days go by and the redness diameter is less, the scratching urge disappears. another day or two and i search and search for where it once was, but like time, it is gone.
20 One-Liners After Reading Joe Brainard
Winter
Ice is more likely than snow.
Summer
Sun, sand, and shore, what you thought.
Writing
Is only part of what I am thinking.
Today
Will be like tomorrow, but different.
In the country
Deer cross roads and sometimes die.
Recipe
One part chocolate, one part graham cracker, one part marshmallow, add flame first.
That feeling
When you just know.
Ecuador
The place where a cow fell on me but missed.
Happiness
Is a good Beatles song or a warm puppy.
Money
Do pennies really matter anymore?
Lake
Powell, Crater, Radnor, Tahoe, Champlain
The Sky
Isn’t falling, although it sometimes feels that way.
Carrots
Taste best with hummus.
Modern Times
Everyone has the answer, no one has the answer.
Real life
When your tooth is being extracted.
Loyalty
Is canceling all of your plans.
Something to think about
If you are really really quiet, you probably already know.
Virginia
I am always a young person here.
Human nature
To believe in the divine.
Stars
The phosphorescent paint in constellation stories.
End of Camping
one night i sat
up trying to count
tent time, evenings in
lean-tos, sleeping bags
on dew covered earth
after backpacking, hiking, driving
away from city streets
to forest trees, mountains
summer storms, coastal sunrises
and there were dozens
maybe two hundred of
these star-filled moon
skies with campfire sparked
memories of younger days
when injured vertebrae were
stronger and slumber more
easily arrived, now nearing
50, i feel the chapter’s
end coming, but a story
written in god’s nature
will always dwell within
Our Wisdom
I found this poem in my Grandmother’s scrapbook, I believe it is from the late 1920’s.
No Poem Today
nada nothing zilch
absence of all
form, invisible blank
space, that void
empty of everything
vacant desert, arid
dry heaves, alone
in this brain
without thoughts, vast
darkness between stars
How Nature Works
glistening grass with morning
dew, like a spider web
pulsating, wind whipping, sticky
threads catch life, then
death, how nature works
constant miracles, colors, petals
insects submerged in nectar
pollen dust travels, floating
on bees feet, sun
greets this day with
warmth for all, moon
at night, bright dreams
silent stars, flickering light
Daniel W. Polk 