DRUM CIRCLE (TO A SQUARE)

We paired off

Shared our thoughts

Spared no expense

Offered no pretense:

So far from the beating heart/

Its manifestations/

Birthing new and 

Inglorious rhythms.

-jim hill (6-20-2016)

STRANGLE HANDS

My hands don't work

In strangulation mode;

Aren't you glad I've 

Assessed no blame? My

Shortcomings have only

Become shorter with age

And no longer wear the

Short-pants of youth. No,

They have all got long, 

Grey beards

And are curiosities 

Only for

The circumspect.

-jim hill (4-27-2016)

ONE DAY

One day 
all is well: 
the flowers are blooming, 
no dogs are nipping 
at your ankles 
as you ride your bike 
fast and hard. The wind is just right; 
your homework is done 
and there's no school tomorrow. 
The days last 
as long as 
you want them to.
Friends test and tease 
until the light dies out 
and the night games begin.

-jim hill (3-23-2016)

BEAST

It's clear you were a beast
Until unsolicited civility came to bring
You meaningless manners
And etiquette for eateries.
All you ever needed,
Though,
Was a predator's zeal
At finding
A delicious
Solid meal 
(of men).

-jim hill (3-11-2016)

UNTITLED (FOR A ROSE)

I want you

In my mouth

So I eat

Your words,

Savoring each

Consonant

Vowel

And

Turn of phrase.

A digestion

Of sorts

Poignant and pure:

A delectable

Challenge 

To my pallet.

They swell in me

Your words 

And

Show to me,

New promises

To vow;

Perhaps to

Keep.

And yet

The miles I've come

The miles to go

Can only then 

Allow me sleep.

-jim hill (2-28-2016

DOG DAYS

From the back porch

I throw rotting fruit

And vegetables

Into the NE corner

Of our backyard

Behind the cluster 

Of Plumbago. This

Corner is also where

My daughter's dog

And my son's dog

Wage an ongoing

War with a neighboring

Adversary - through the

Spaces in the wooden 

Fence. By this time

In late summer

The blue flowers 

Are so thick we can't see

The dogs anymore;

Can only hear

Three distinct barks

And growls and see

The shaking blue flowers 

And green leaves.

-jim hill (9-22-2015)

WAREHOUSEMAN

Cloudy and cold is the way I remember it, or steamy hot and humid. There were extremes at the warehouse: back-busting hard labor and coffee breaks allowing for a bit of rest and relaxation.

I remember the first time I was told to take "the '62" (old Chevy box-end with lift-gate) over to the thrift store. This meant driving the truck out of its stall across our parking lot to a narrow driveway at the end, whipping the truck around to back it in down the drive-way the 30 yards to the thrift store loading room. I was fine until I had to use the tiny mirrors to back up. No way to turn my head and look behind me as I could in a car; that big box behind the cab allowed no visibility behind. I was fine for the first five yards or so then lost my bearings. I had no spotter and had lost sight of my target: the large roll-up door of the thrift shop. After frantically looking in both mirrors for clues and man-handling the huge steering-wheel (no power-steering), hoping no one was watching this driving fiasco (did I mention it was cold and drizzling rain?), praying I wouldn't be stuck in the slushy grounds on either side of the driveway. After a few minutes of the the now established pattern of looking, steering, and praying, I got out of the truck to assess my progress. How could I be this far off the road?!? If not for the tracks I'd left in the soggy tall grass it would appear as if the truck and bed had been set into place as if to allow it to die in a field.