Jnana Hodson grew up in a suburb within the city limits. In August, Fowlpox Press published Harbor of Grace as a free downloadable chapbook of his prose poems. It is available here. He lives in Dover, New Hampshire, and blogs at Jnana’s Red Barn.

Billowing

bicycle through a starburst, a sand peso
              portal of sage and thyme, say what you will
of a Holy Family encrusted mosaic in the garden
              Goya, the invaders and their riverside
forge, still glowing green Picasso
               imagining this woman by the sea
stacked under awnings small round tables
               however crowded, however urbane
cities that are not capitols
               where I keep alone and wary, recognizing
Miro curvatures of diamond, crystal
               cups and glasses, tarnished bell
roses, another bus passing
               babies or a slice of bread
or a tomato, dripping oil
               strings of laundry in reactionary banners
from wrought-iron balconies
               the solo cello lines lithesome as snakes

Worlds Apart

even after all our letters and late-night
               (early morning there)
conversations I still speculate

               the distance of Buffalo to Seattle
               Los Angeles to Detroit
               Boston to Salt Lake
               San Diego to Fairbanks
               Miami to Newfoundland

               how an American converts the Mediterranean
               to one Interstate highway or another

fifteen nations, with the Adriatic

                half-again the length of the five Great Lakes
                (an American Baltic?)

the fish slippery
as a crocodile
on the landing

you have to meet somewhere