Jeff Harrison

This goes on

This goes on; they pile; I won't see the end of hounds, I who cried out at the fountain's side, is there no end to this seeing and finding?


Pile, hounds

Pile, hounds; you won't find another Actaeon. A hart, yes; then, where is Actaeon to praise you? Praise us, Actaeon, for the hart -- my hounds, where is your Actaeon?


Find another hart

Find another hart, my hounds, I'll wait, who'll tell you he is Actaeon. You stay, hounds? Hounds, you pile. Have at your Actaeon, hounds, have at him, then find that hart who'll tell you he is Actaeon.


Quiet, hounds

Quiet, hounds; listen. What is this voice to you -- it doesn't float above us, it comes from a hart's mouth. I claim it for myself, I have it say, I am Actaeon, then I have it say, hounds, I am your Actaeon.


Actaeon, we stand

Actaeon, we stand at the fountain's side, and find no one. Count me, then, the genius of this grove. Actaeon, we do so, and await your command. Course, hounds; hart, leap; lapse, fount, and purl.

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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