In my dreams,
You stood, in the doorway,
Etched from the rain,
That descended, in gray
Down the window.
By Steve Hansonabout a month ago in Poets
an aspen arm.
Amber air, adrift against
By Steve Hanson2 months ago in Poets
A physicist frets over quantum mechanics,
Says: “It’s not empirically real!” in a panic.
But knows its conclusions alone
Ancient creatures sleep under the soil
With bones turning slowly to oil.
Though, above ground we’re alive,
It’s much easier to drive
I once knew winters
That spanned the length of dreams. But
Now, my winters sleep.
By Steve Hanson3 months ago in Poets
Caged in Babylon
They dreamed that time moves forward,
But circles back home.
Kant said: “Time is not
An empirical concept;”
I read by dusk’s light.
Aged, I mark time as
The moon hides her face. But, young,
I swam lunar seas.
In stone, gave his voice to sand.
“Despair” whispers time.
In flight, it carries
The season’s last dream of blue
Against the gray sky
By Steve Hanson6 months ago in Poets
Above clouds I stand—
Inverted Atlas—My arms
Holding Dawn from Earth.
By Steve Hanson7 months ago in Poets
Did gods only plant
These rocks? Or, are they seed husks
Of sunsets, long bloomed?