Still Alive

but nothing to say

chris h


This is an Old Poem I Found

i wrote this in the hot summer once...

At dawn the Calcasieu ferry goes
from nowhere to nowhere,
The road before and after
dotted with rotting black alligators.
marsh on the left, sea on the right,
from Cameron to New Orleans.

The mist is full of ghosts.
It seeps stinking from the brackish water,
wavering at daybreak
between the marshes and the gulf
before calmly marching south
across the motionless sea.

eehhhhh, i'm not near as impressed as i was
maybe you are

chris h



Without Trying to Sound British

about...well it doesn't really matter
how many years ago, but i made a concious decision
to spell grey with an "e" whenever possible.

it seems softer somehow, closer to what a
cloud line really is on the color spectrum,
snow in the dark, dusk reflected in water,
the jumbled weeks between arkansas fall and winter,
the grains between black and white in every pretechnicolor movie.

gray, it cuts and slashes, too metallic,
there's no mystery in the letter "a"
no love...

chris h