update –

if you are actually reading this and not downloading the adult images i have hidden around this blog, this is an update on the writing-side of jck hnry. there are no links to adult images herein, so if that is your destiny, please move on…for now. Ha!

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a recent review of yours truly appears here. it is quite positive and interesting to read, especially from my perspective. even with this now my fifth or sixth book/chap, i am amazed that people take the time to review. it is always a pleasure to discover insight other eyes hold…

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george anderson over at bold monkey did a rather lengthy and intriguing review of CRUNKED. there is an interview with the author at the end of the review where i sound completely pompous and a bit drunk. all that is here.

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CRUNKED can be purchased at either Small Press Distribution and AMAZON. Click on either to buy. As yet I do not have copies. Not enough cash for a pre-publication buy…soon, maybe.

prose: an argument

prose: an argument
by Jack Henry on Monday, October 3, 2011 at 9:54pm.

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Note: Totally random and without edit. A five minute right because my internet is so fucking slow.

poem: sublimation

poem: sublimation
i am a 1950s suburban housewife
standing at a door,
knowing but not wanting him to return after a day at an office,
or an afternoon with his whore;
alone in a kitchen,
masturbating to memories,
lost in a fog of anti-depressants and household chores,
Leave It to Beaver beatitudes
and paint-by-numbers Barbie play sets –

poem: angels of disrepair

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and still the whispers echo
long after the rope’s been cut,
bodies removed,
sinners and saints retired from the town square,
the center of the world,
the center of life,
the very core of it all –

poem: atop the bones of dead saints

we place stones one by one
atop the bones of saints
felled by the voices of disbelief
and disintegration –
and no more to dance
in fields laid flat by the footsteps
of hooligans and martyrs,
carrying their flames and fears
within the clench of trembling hands –

poem: fields afire

there is no silence at the center
of a garden filled with dead flowers
and falling leaves;
a garden surrounded by armor and brick
and the bones of soldiers gone so long from us now –

poem: driftwood

tv’s buzzing some old movie –
undercover angels chasing demon dope –
ceiling fan spins lazy –
winter’s begins a slow drift in –

traveling to PHOENIX

so I will be traveling to Phoenix shortly and you know how I love Phoenix…not so much, but I will leave a couple of pics and report back later. as an FYI i have submitted many poems to many places in anticipation of many rejections, because i love rejection…

review – “Crunked”

i am lucky to have received a very positive review of “crunked” which now appears at BOLD MONKEY. in all honesty it is completely unexpected given my feelings on “crunked” and how it may or may not be perceived in the so-called “public realm.”

poem: trapped

there’s dust on the last page of my memories –
i am trapped within the branches of an unforgiving tree
and
chased by black and white flickering images –

a soft voice drills deep within my discontent –
where i stand the water stills into a silver panarama –
her face still holds me, her hands still touch my skin –

i never received a passing grade –
a test written in braille, back in days when i could still see –

a tremor in my hands reminds me of my disrespect –
she said she loved me,

once, a long time ago –

review: Train to Chihuahua by Travis Blair

review: Train to Chihuahua by Travis Blair
by Jack Henry on Monday, May 9, 2011 at 9:18pm

I have often said that I don’t like reading poetry books. That is, books filled with poetry. Specifically books filled with poetry by a single poet. It can be a tedious, terrifying and sometimes traumatic event. The problem with most books of poetry by a single writer is with the poems. A few are great, many are good and far too many just suck out loud. SUCK OUT LOUD. This is true of the lofty academics on the high nosed presses to the self-published heroes in backwater USA. It happens, all too often but it happens.

review: Crunked reviewed by David McLean in Feb 2011

review: Crunked reviewed by David McLean in Feb 2011

Note: This is from February 2010 originally at Clockwise Cat. I am not sure what version of Crunked this is based on, but here you go…

poem: shattered highway

shattered highway

…and I watch a broken down road rumble
beneath my wheels, the desert wind whipping
through my thinning hair,
memories of love lost and battles won
drift through my head,
a dull gray moon lifts effortlessly into a waning sky –

poem – absolution

absolution

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just after sunset
driving west
open highway
cool breeze
lavender skies
and a buzzing fly for a companion

poems – shorties

not into it
a soft breeze blows in across the backyard
every day around 4 pm –
trees bend, swirl and drift lazy across blue velvet skies –
fish boil across the top of the pond –

i find my spot on the back step –
smoke another cigarette –
trace back through the roots of my day
searching for a small fragment to tuck away –


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