James HallPrairie AsterWalking through the park, sometimes I stop — foot mid-air, so as to not crush a wild violet or prairie aster — and think:Jul 11, 2020Jul 11, 2020
James HallRivers of GlassWe do not walk around with memories. Rather, we put them up in homes, distinct residences inside our minds; there, they continue to grow…Feb 14, 2020Feb 14, 2020
James HallOn the Back PorchA hibiscus bud refuses to unfurl, Desiccating in August’s mouth. Familiar with the dark and shape Of things, it thinks it know itself. It…Dec 29, 2019Dec 29, 2019
James HallHeartlandTonight is clear. The sky, creosote. Distant embers pulse Throwing purple at our shadows. We stand huddled and smoke. Talk in grain-hoarse…Nov 21, 2019Nov 21, 2019
James HallThe StormThe heavy hardwood frame rings hollow As is knocks against the sill, like a poorly docked boat. Crooked and gapped as an old fisherman’s…Nov 10, 2019Nov 10, 2019
James HallRevisiting a Poem and Still LostInside the promise of night, I gave your letters to the river. They did not float like paper cranes but slipped away like flesh beneath a…Oct 30, 2019Oct 30, 2019
James HallBale HandsBale hands bleed like wheat From wiry stalks, much stronger than they seem; Cut on teeth, combined to derive Heavens from bare plots…Oct 24, 2019Oct 24, 2019
James HallThe PuzzlePerhaps, it is all the robes you see in movies And TV, but it was a balmy seventy-four. We didn’t know what to do with our stares, So, we…Oct 19, 2019Oct 19, 2019