Jeff Harrison


Actaeon, the leaves

Actaeon, the leaves of the trees are hounds, and the trees are hounds. If you make it to nightfall, the hart becomes a hound. And tomorrow? Is there no end to Actaeon? Oh, tomorrow... Tonight you'll be a hound of the forest of hounds.


Old friends

It isn't every blade of grass that becomes a hart. You'll forget your old friends. Will you rend us? You'll rend us, what can we do to prevent it, and those left whole, what can they do to avenge us? The grass rent, the hart leaps. Leap, hart; the hounds course, the lyrist sweeps his harp. Do you hear him? Attend him while you may. He'll deny having been a mouthpiece for hounds, for a hart, for every blade of grass.

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.

 
 

previous page     contents     next page