it's that swelling in the gut again

believe i'll take her to the crossing where the river is shallow

there we can orient ourselves to the

wind 

and the land

once it's dark we'll arrange ourselves neatly

in crosses (hands over hands, arms over arms

etc)

i didn't make the rules so much as make them up as i go

i found out too late that you didn't like what i'd decided to believe

we found our separate ways but despite the frontier's dimension

we alternately found it impossible to be apart (for long)

what to use as bait

or should we be gatherers

hell, i've forgotten what to believe now

we're both, i think,

spoiled by our

lack of faith

too late to be hippies

or to wear long robes and chant at the coming comet

let's just call it even now

and ponder the end like all others

happily following the many leaders

over edges over easy.

(c) jim hill (01-29-10)

untitled (not latvian at all, but inspired by a latvian)

when i took that sad thing
in my hand and looked at it
it had a foreign appeal
like i'd never seen it this way before

it had somehow shrunk
like an old man at the end
this is the mighty sword
that led me to conquests
in strange wet beds

it was strong as it pierced 
soft defenses
it was held by tender caresses
and soft kisses

it found safe harbor
in between silken legs
and it always was good
for a sail or two

now it is blinded
by apathy
and a lapse in memory
it's good for nothing now
but a laugh or two to think
how it used to think for itself
and its cocksure owner/handler.

(c) jim hill (01-25-10)

untitled (latvia 2)

i took each bullet
in my mouth
and left an imprint
of each tooth
so there would be
no question
who pulled the trigger

i was alone
but i knew
i had somehow
found a lover
an ocean away

we took to crticism
not because we enjoyed
it but that it renewed our
faith that we were being heard

we took the bitterness
in each of our mouths
and traded it tongue for tongue
hers in mine mine in hers
and we spoke french thereafter

(c) jim hill (-1-25-10)

untitled (latvia3)

your lifetime is in mine
we count each crystal of sand
as if it were our last
we love the cold
so that our breath can be seen
i eat your hair
and bite your flesh
because you bring out the 
carnivore in me. bless us both
for we have sinned
(but it certainly didn't feel peculiar at the time)

like dancers
we enjoyed
nothing more than to move
we didn't watch our feet
our hands
so much as they watched
us
and anticipated what we could do
within our own limitations

god made allowances
for our shortcomings
and what was whispered
between us we took to be solemn
oaths.

(c) jim hill (01-27-10)

Untitled (couple)

we lived in a mud hut for awhile you and i

I’d carve things out of branches

While you’d dream of grand balustrades

And federalist-style windows

Foraging for food down by the river

You’d talk of new linens

On the table we didn’t have

And how this or that would

Look good in the alcove of the

Drawing room

I’d piece together

Scraps of leather

For covering us in the winter

While your head was filled

With pictures of fur lined boots

And elegant stoles

 

We couldn’t prepare

Ourselves anymore for what would

Be a short life together

Me taken early by overwork

And lack of rest

And you by dreams

Unfulfilled

 

I couldn’t hate you anymore

Than what I did

There was no time

What with the spring rains

Headed this way

We finally got around

To saving seeds from year to year

And plowing up the good soil

And learning about rotating the crops

You were barren

But no fault of your own

We needed field hands to help

With all the chores but you didn’t

Want the inconvenience or disruption

Of a well-tended figure. We called it a draw

And went to work on what we could salvage:

You of your memories of civilization; I of

Bending the basics to my will.

 

All I wanted (I maintained until the end)

Was what truth had to offer. I was tired of

Living in somebody else’s picture of a life. I picked

This woman before I knew what I wanted. She stayed

To see (I’m convinced) me being sucked and ravaged

By what is really harsh for a man who was not built

For hardness. For someone who learned things, but only the

Simplest surface of them.

(c) jim hill (01-21-10)

your electrical side

show me your electrical side. can you show me your electrical side

like i won your heart in a poker match and you had a neon smile

that wouldn't quit. you said i had that poker face and i didn't really

win did i but you said you loved me anyway like i had this sad side

and it didn't get in the way of your positive optimism it was like

that little girl inside you connected

with what stopped in me when i was like five-ish.

(c) jim hill (01-18-10)

untitled (teach me)

teach me

what you can

about fireworks

gunpowder

and lava flows.

help me to

see my place

in the making

of things

and the consuming

of things

where can i

for example

see my position

on the grid

of living

when all around me

have faced uncertainty

with a shrug

they prefer to

see things as they

are and ignore the obvious

they talk themselves

into a casual acceptance

of the moral condition

their's is an agenda

based on lies

and false witness

what their daddies

told them about

God and how their

moms told them to wash up 

before meals. would those 

things really matter were it not for

an abundant disregard

for the complexities in which

we find ourselves -

hidden and anonymous

in the texts of the living

stacks?

(c)jim hill (01-18-10)

untitled (as yet)

and i've probed
the folds
with no protection
felt the working
man's heat
while projecting
erections.

(c)jim hill (01-16-10)