Jeff Harrison


A cloth, please

A cloth, please, for my mouth, anything you can spare. And why didn't you spare me? I always come back to that, pardon me, my hounds. The bit of crimson I leave on your cloth will come out, I know where there's a fount; or if it won't come out, your cloth will be transformed. What do you want in place of your cloth? I don't know if the fount will take direction; I didn't try.

The true hounds of Actaeon

Hounds, the other hounds spared me; they're the true hounds of Actaeon. Could you be as true? The cloth they gave me for my mouth, you see it wing above us, you hear it cry Actaeon, Actaeon. Though a hart, I'm unmarred; though a hart, I remain your Actaeon. The other hounds, the true hounds of Actaeon, remain at the fountain's side. Do you join them, or do you imagine you're the final hounds?

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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