Sunday, May 19, 2013

Two Poems by Tom Hatch


Luck
 
The haze on the sea is the river of luck
Washing merging with the salt (of the earth)
Tectonic plates of liquid fuel self-combustible
In restraint of you are screwed a tsunami
Of bad luck just buckled its belt around
Your waist of good intentions buoyed
Near a sand bar the surface reflecting
The stars that are eyes clouding over
could be getting lucky
The rain is a state of mind dog paddling
To the shore of sandy beaches that are sunny
could be lucky
The sound of a train horn in the next county
Returns from the prairie that the rains made greener
could be lucky
Thinking of that villa in Tuscany
a picture in a magazine with a Mediterranean view
Luck the thinness of the ink on the page
Try taking the luck it gives a paper cut
Luck is an echo that is not in your control
Like finding a pearl in a fried oyster



 
Next Year

this glass hallway a slight reflection of a
wild man as he said initiate the wild man
As the day goes out a wild infection try
gold finger tips in love and maybe all
things that the wild does to men strip your
lables and valuables and gurus' rust
what comes next stainless steel razor wire
wounds wounded held inside for
next year’s suicide or madness wings




Tom Hatch paid his dues in the NYC soho art scene in late 70's 80's and early 90's. He was been awarded two National Endowment grants back then for sculpture, showed a lot and the The New Museum a couple of times. Taught at University of Florida inTallahassee, in new Jersey at Princeton. He got really close to the literary world his office was next to (name drop) Joyce Carol Oats' office and the University of Penn in the city "Of Brotherly Love".  He resides in Connecticut now a few farms up and down the road. He does residential construction management for the rich and famous in the Apple. He loves to write...sculpture takes up too much space and money.  He has published numerous poems and is a regular at Camel Saloon and Boy Slut. He was invited and published a companion piece with Devlin De La Chapa, the editor of Boy Slut about chess and checkmate.

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