Poetry
mark hartenbach
KING OF THE WORLDthis house, small enough to fool the authorities large enough to stretch the truth a bit & live with the writing on the wall contains all the secrets of the universe if you know where to look sometimes you have to poke & prod while imitating the distance sometimes it comes spilling out faster than fiction that crack in the wall leads to newest jerusalem those water stains spell out history in lower case evasiveness every question mark a viruous response a tender foreshadowing as inevitable as zodiac itemizations when the wind is feeling ruthless nocturnal conviction rattles all that's lacking the framework can be vulnerable to misinterpretation but don't peel back my rooftop my delusions are all i have this is heaven to a fugitive from purpose SUNwhile still an adolescent i buried the sun in the backyard & when i need it most i'll dig it up many tell me i look vaguely familiar but the name escapes them maybe i have the best of both worlds i'm the jumping hair in the newreel snaking its way into subconscious serving no discernable purpose except to rise & fall THE MYTH OF DOG YEARSwhen in need of cold comfort, that 3 a.m. slap in the head & desire to know the world has scratched surface but hasn't sunk it's claws in completely the need to locate my shadow, lost in flourescence found in the moonlight i trace twenty years worth of stepping lightly circling the future, dog-earing the past but never returning to it for fear i'll see i've been dreaming in color all this time chained dogs whine on the hillside without a trace of irony the treeline is paternal but can't be embraced something is knocking down brush in the dark gorge trying to get a closer look, i expect a thorny encounter but stumble over small unidentifiable bones insted shaken but not completely surprised all wings are folded away this is when the connection is the strongest stark realization of how difficult it can be to imitate the perfect rythmns of sleep how hard it is not to rouse the suspicions of the living CHESTER BRIDGE"sometimes i take a great notion to jump in the river & drown" -leadbelly was more john berryman than it's a wonderful life with chipped grey girders that shook with anger when a semi rolled through but whether watching papers dance erratically to the surface of the water or crab apples belly flop into the wild green river it was a liberating feeling that i never grew tired of
mark hartenbach lives in a sleepy backwood appalachian town along the |