From Issue 11: Each Wounded Thought Begins to Dance Almost Painlessly

Each Wounded Thought Begins to Dance Almost Painlessly
Chris Hutchinson
 
East of here, groves of magnolia
Shade troves of rust-darkened auto parts.
No one walks anymore.
The sun stains the horizon with an iodine tincture before dusk
Seals the wound shut.
No one reads Henry David Thoreau.
The unmistakably sparrow-headed Prince of Hell
Dons his caldron-helmet. His eyes
Are a drugstore’s promise of late-night hours
Preferable to cutting thru
Or driving on, alone.
 
jU7rIVIlRSCFuvw8xlDy_full_AUTHOR FOTO 2Canadian expat Chris Hutchinson is the author of three collections of poetry, plus his most recent book, Jonas in Frames, which has been variously described as a “picaresque novel,” a “novel in verse,” and “an epic poem disguised as a novel.” Visit Chris online here: http://chrishutchinsonblog.blogspot.com