Jeff Harrison


Brisk Hours In The Wide Woods

rose dies to words, the stem
rises to Virginia's height
this lyre with no hide, before or
behind, will meet every delight

so I read in "The Virginia Triggers"
and I imagined, lacking a picture,
a lyre was a sceptre

there, in my picture, bloom, as nyctohylophobes
grow savage when afar of night, tides of pursuit

here, with this bloom, lacking
the lyre's delight,
many roses lie awake
weeping every melody

and I imagined, lacking a picture,
weeping was a frolic, and
Virginia, the lady of drops,
was fond of their shine



That Human Air Without Noon

how shines! Virginia,
shepherdess pale &
herdless, strayed
from pastures
to waves
of wilderness

so bright this eve
it's noon overgrown

the very stars bark as they rise at you

their bleat is the wolf's
& one implores your sleeplessness

why, air'll labyrinth her, same as us...
deserted by bites... waves of
the wolf's attempts or rain of
the wolf's attempts, yet it's
the pastures have come for her




Jeff Harrison has publications from Writers Forum, Persistencia Press, and Furniture Press. He has e-books from BlazeVOX and Argotist Ebooks. His poetry has appeared in An Introduction to the Prose Poem (Firewheel Editions), Noon: An Anthology of Short Poems (Isobar Press), three Meritage Press hay(na)ku anthologies, Sentence: a Journal of Prose Poetics, Moria, and elsewhere.
 
 
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