Poem of the Month
On the infinite map

By Jack Hannan

Published on September 1, 2013

People came as they were, or as they wanted to be.
They thought, I am driven.
They thought, is this longing?
They thought, but this is fear. This is anger.
They sang the song called “What is love?”
They said drive, they said longing.
They said, as a matter of fact.
That could be enough of what they said.
Many were quite willing to look at people
just the way they hoped to be perceived,
at least in the beginning. Others, of course, were surveyors,
little Freuds and Jungs and Mortimer Adlers.
There were also times
we would look at others through the lens of our own hopes,
as though just their appearance was all the answer we really needed.

More Poetry

Nursery Rhyme for Big Brother

Palace flags and shoot-to-kill orders,
cardboard tanks and well-lit borders,
dungeons and lice, grenades and books,
photos retouched and high-kicking boots,

Sound No 2

There are things I want to show you, like the empty pause that encircles desire. Or how Klimt knew that a woman bends her neck that far for a kiss only if she really wants it. I want to show you how quiet it gets when you’re in the company of someone who no longer loves you.

The Tundra at last

The Tundra at last
Resound my heart
Your music, the river
Your light, the stars
Your carpet, the lichen’s tender green