Tag Archives: jack henry poetry

blunt trauma press –

20 Jan

righthand angle of a continuous curve

Somewhere in California Jack Henry sits on a bar stool waiting with the patience of monuments, it’s not necessary to know what or who he’s waiting for – that’s his damned business. Jack Henry writes with the passion of an addict about to inhale and the insight of a loner out on a desert highway looking for a ride. In ‘The Right Hand Angle of a Continuous Curve’ Jack Henry continues to seek solace in the memory of the women he never really knew, didn’t really want to know, and a few he knew too damn well. Jack has no qualms about drinking alone, accepting rides from strangers or sleeping in unmade beds. Sometimes it’s easier to just not give a shit. Sometimes it’s easier to stand out on the highway alone . . . sometimes you find a piece of writing with the urgency of a lover about to fuck, and sometimes you get fucked. On the continuous curve Jack Henry’s driving, there are no emergency exits – buckle up.

available at some point in 2012…


poem: east of where i stand

7 Oct

my brain fills
with scattershot landscapes,
tumble weeds blow dead
across long flat rivers of black asphalt,
trees and shrubs bend from a ceaseless wind,
dust carves veins atop dry clay river bottoms –
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poem: angels of disrepair

1 Oct

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 –

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review – “Crunked”

16 Sep

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.”

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south Texas riding –

16 Aug

and she stands alone staring out at the final drop
of a south Texas sun –
a gentle breeze lifts through long strands of auburn hair,
eyes brilliant and blue,
her smile spreads slow across glistening lips –

a raven lifts in flight as her laughter peels across the desert floor –
she reaches out as if to touch the face of a man she has not yet met –

behind the wheel of her pick-up truck she drives wild down a dirt road –
back to town, back to reality, back to the grind of making it one more day –

she pulls into a gas station where a stranger says hello and nothing more –
for a moment she hesitates, says
where you headed?

he says,
no where special

she says,
I know that place

and offers him a ride –

unadorned press –

25 Apr

i recently decided to submit stuff for publication. not sure why. maybe it has something do with impending death…

got accepted at something called Unadorned Press.

This from their FB page:
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poem: wistful contemplation –

26 Mar

…and I remember the sweet taste of your tongue
your hands folding into mine
the color of your eyes as they begin to fade –
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poem: low rent living

14 Mar

she walked into the living room,
sat on a thrift store reject couch,
adjusted her breasts,
and lit a cigarette –
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pome: the stillness of a western sky

20 Jan

the stillness of a western tide

trees still bend
as waves of light
disappear over
purple mountains
i stand at the stillness
of a western tide
teeth clenched
and dreaming –

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poem: no need for translation

16 Dec

no need for translation

across the alley
from the Fortune Cookie factory
in a Chinese store
filled with trinkets and common
household items
spatulas and incense holders
large bowls
and golden coin banks shaped like cats
an old man watches me

there are two aisles
barely enough room for two people
to share
a smiles blankly at me
mutters a curse in Mandarin
or, perhaps, Cantonese
the old man shushes her

i cannot tell if he is smiling
or frowning
his eyes remain neutral
three young women enter the store
giggles and laughs
the old man watches me
sneak a indelicate glance
he smiles
his eyes delight

outside i catch a smoke
wait on my girlfriend
who caught my glance as well
laughed as well
shook her head
you are too old
but knock yourself out

back across the alley I sit in a chair
the kind you had in grade school
another old Chinese man sits on my left
the old Chinese man from the store comes outside
sits to my right
we sit there smoking
the old Chinese men trade a brief conversation
i understand the fingers
the pointing
the laughter

i laugh as well
what can you do?

young Chinese women in tight jeans
and low blouses walk by

three old men pause
smoke lingers in the air
they pass by
three old men sneak indelicate glances
it begins to sprinkle
in Chinatown

poem: two tourists on a bus and in a restaurant in san francisco

15 Dec

Two Tourists on a Bus and in a Restaurant in San Francisco

big bus riding
top deck
tourist town
the City
40 degrees
probably less
bridge crossing
Golden Gate

clouds split
sun shines
on her, her smile
eyes sparkle – indeed
a thousand years
within a single

across a bridge
bridge crossing
clouds break
a stream of light
a rail
of hope
future expression
her eyes
the City
future built
even now
even then

back of the bus
up on top
sight seeing
seeing sights
skinny streets
Queen Anne
Italian something
(i can’t quite remember)
history and words and mumbles

skies gray and graying
behind windows
on a dock made of wood
worn smooth by boots
of fishermen
a fishery now restaurant

she shines
as all other conversation fades
silence carves delicate picture
her hand is cold
but warming


14 Nov

in a suspended state of otherness

let me fold into you

for a moment
maybe two
	just awhile
let the clear focus
of reality
let midday sun 
bleed through 
open windows
	without curtains
let me melt onto you
my skin to yours
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random promotion –

2 Aug

random promotion because that’s how i roll

i just received word that i should have cover art by the end of this upcoming weekend, which i am guessing at august 9. with the patience of monuments is the culmination of a lifelong dream to get a full-length book of poetry out into the world and this is it. some have questioned why i am with neopoiesis press and the better question is why are they with me. regardless the answer the book is coming…

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