Jnana Hodson


Chisel Chest


COLD: thick, for stone, cement, asphalt
(One size fits all applications.)
Draw a line.
Crack.
A foundation. A curbstone.
A name and date in a headstone.

WOOD: delicately curved
(A full set, to fit varied tasks.)
Decisive bite, as teeth into a carrot or cheese.
In the skillful hand
a door latch, new lock,
box of some measure.
Or treasure.

EITHER WAY: One tap,
or two—it's done.
Not too much.
No damage.

The skillful hand
keeps sharp. Rust-free.

Lightly oiled
in the box
with wooden handles.



Two Guys with Pry Bars



Forget the crow.
Mine's a gorilla.
His is Bertha.

A stubborn nail
long rusted shut.
A piece of rotten timber.
Drywall or electrical fixture.
Slab of concrete.
A bit of sill. Cement block. Stone.
Or some other sunny beach
needs assaulting
with first-class fulcrum power.

Working with Rick
"Where's this going?"
Sometimes we won't know
till we get there.



Yeast Culture

Maybe it's contamination.
Maybe, invisible redemption.
The unseen element transforms all the same.
Sometimes, a necessary ingredient.
Or always.

In the end,
bacterial motion
breaks all life forms down
as the essential back-to-earth movement.

My wife Rachel respects how it works.
Making yogurt.
And then bread, in endless varieties.
Especially the wild sourdough.
Beer lagers and ales.

Wines and whiskey.
(The brewery and bakery are neighbors.)

It's largely a matter of kneading
or stirring
and then waiting.

A culture
as the origin of culture
and everything that means.



Dream Fragments


She told me her name was Minnesota.

To the extent we respect boundaries
we've succeeded.

* * *

First, I'm hanging with two others
—some movie guy and Cindy Crawford.

Thought she's with him, until she starts
kissing me and unbuttoning my shirt.

Second, I'm driving with an ex-lover
and things get out of hand. This time
            we do it right.

* * *

Within a worship-sharing circle
I speak of a fairy tale that ends
with his awakening and exclamation,
"I hate my brother and everything he is,
beginning with the blond hair on his chest!"
A pipe organ interlude follows.
Later, I run into a mustached friend who insists,
"Our workshop missed it."
—Eh?
"The tale tells it all."
—Would you repeat?
"The blond hair - the smallest difference
can become the defining point
of hatred and resentment."

* * *

New Hampshire is, for the most part, a daytime estate.



Jnana Hodson's Web-zine appearances include Comrades, Deep Cleveland Junkmail Oracle, Hobart, Jack, Third Muse, and Tryst. Contrary to a common presumption, Jnana's not a woman. The name's Sanskrit, where Rama, Krishna, Shiva, Arjuna, and Ganesha are also all males. He's had the handle for more than three decades now.

 

 

Fiction . Poetry . Art . Non-Fiction
Home . Contributor Bios

 
 
 
2003-2004 Plum Ruby Review. All rights reserved.