Dane BH

Joined May 2021

0 stories

Bio

By day, I'm a cog in the nonprofit machine, and poet. By night, I'm a creature of the internet. My soul is a grumpy cat who'd rather be sleeping.

Top Story count: 17

www.danepoetry.com

Check out my Vocal Spotlight and my Vocal Podcast!

Achievements (17)

Stories (174/0)

Poems I'll Never Write
Poem where the judge grins over the adoption papers Poem where you tell me I'm still not your real mom Poem where you call me mom on purpose
By Dane BH12 months ago in Poets
To Montana Lawmaker Zooey Zephyr
34 year old Montana State Representative Zooey Zephyr told her Republican colleagues that if they passed a proposed bill banning gender affirming healthcare for minors in the state, they would "have blood on their hands." Her colleagues passed the bill, then voted to ban her from the statehouse for the remainder of the legislative session. Their stated reason: “using inappropriate and uncalled-for language during a floor debate.”
By Dane BH12 months ago in Poets
in one game of ping-pong
We were playing therapeutic ping-pong, the kind where you don’t keep score, you don’t make tricky shots, and you try harder to keep the ball in play than make points. A steady echoing rhythm filled the empty room. Plunk-tap. Plunk-tap. Sometimes plunk-plunk-tap. Sometimes a pause between the beats where you might have heard us breathing, sometimes a scuffle for the ball when it went awry.
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Humans
To Maurice Sendak, Who Died And Left Us With The Wild Things
Dear Maurice, Inside every human is an oak door with a brass knob. Behind it, a steady thump-thump. This is where the wild things are.
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Poets
on the night you came
dear B, near midnight, the roiling world caught its breath. the buckling ship steadied herself long enough to punch through the next wave
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Poets
for Joel and Eve's
dear baby, you arrived on the dregs of autumn, a cascade of brilliant fire from every tree that graced your mother’s walk.
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Poets
dusty missives from the pickle jar shelf
dear ten, If you could see me now, you’d be disgusted. * dear fourteen, pick the skirt on the left * dear eight, if I could tell you how it ends, I would. just keep going.
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Poets
when we were most immortal
sun. sun soak. soak sweet sun. sun-soaked sweet skin. sweet sun-soaked sea skin. salt-soaked sea skin, sweet sun. soak sweet salt sea-skin. sun. sand.
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Poets
elegy for an elder millennial
"Don't trust anyone over thirty," seemed like a good rule that was sturdy until came the time I woke up past my prime - and now that old rule seems quite murky!
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Poets
on our thirtieth anniversary
I wanted to do what was right - help you stay in my country and fight. For papers we wed, but fell into bed. Here's to decades of wedded delight!
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Poets
fouls in the cornfield
There was a rule at the community baseball field: once the cornfield at its edge reached knee height, players were required to rescue any ball fouled or flung into it. The adult leagues had a system to decide whether the catcher or first baseman had to lead the search, and how many beers were owed to whoever found the ball.
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Fiction
Top Story - March 2023
for the day is longTop Story - March 2023
Fish don’t understand the concept of small talk. You’d think they’d be better at it, especially the ones who spend most of their days in bowls or tanks or whatever zoological imprisonment looks best in a teenager’s bedroom. That whole “goldfish have a five second memory span” myth really screwed them over when it came to living arrangements. You’d think they’d be more bitter. Or bored.
By Dane BHabout a year ago in Fiction