Beyond the Need

First and foremost, it takes the sun placed at

A tolerable distance, not too hot and not too

Cold. Some would say the good green and fluid

Earth should come first. But no, neither grass

Nor leaf without sun-kissed ground would grow.

Oxygen and rain would not grace or saturate sea,

Mountain or plain without those energetic pho-

tons sped in suitable measure from our light emit-

ting star. Face it, we humans, the other animals

And plant life alike need both sun and Earth in

Order to survive and thrive. And pizza with the

Works, an ice-cold beer or two, an occasional

Good cigar now and again help to keep things

Tolerable and worthwhile. And if you suspect

That I fabricated this whole quasi-scientific dis-

course just to use the word photon, you might

Be on to something. Personally, I prefer the

Pizza, beer and cigar angle myself.

Chris Hanch  11-30-15

Me

Could be me, somebody me, vaguely me, not

Half the man I used to be, this new-old version

I have come to see, a trace element, pathetically,

A fractured fragment of veracity, me, me, could

Be somebody in this time-worn body, me, mirror

Monument, inconsequential artifact looking back

Dolefully with a withered history, me, me, this

Somebody, vaguely, me, cock-eyed, limp-lined,

Pitted, pock-mark instrument of cynical tomfoolery,

More of less than ever expected, a fractured frac-

tion of the man I used to be, me, me, oh dear lord,

vaguely, a degenerate facsimile, an old shoe dis-

gracefully unlaced, scruffily encrusted jeans come

Full-cycle, unraveling at the seams, worn by time

And tide, a faded off-brand label, unintelligible, the

Genuine article, however, ensconced in ambiguity,

Thoroughly me—Nobody but.

Chris Hanch 11-22-15

Imagine the Acropolis

You stand atop the Acropolis and gaze in wonder and awe.

Imagine thousands of years of history, a history not only of

Ancient Greece, but indeed symbolically the history of all

Western civilization. Today, there are scaffolds surrounding

the limestone temple structures atop that historic hill. A vi-

gorous monumental cleaning is taking place.

For millennia, pollutants, exhausts and abrasive toxic fumes

have grated and eaten away at the surfaces of those precious

edifices. Now imagine the ongoing process of restorations to

come, each cleaning taking more and more particles away

from each and every stone. Carefully the method is calculated,

measured to affect the precise and even wearing of each and

every stone.

And one day, tens of thousands of years hence (given all that

corrosive pollution and the abrasive cleaning) there will be a

resulting miniature museum piece, an Acropolis so tiny it could

be held it in the palm of a hand. Imagine the history of that. Ima-

gine the archeological thinking then—those Ancient Greeks, they

must have been a tiny yet mightily industrious lot indeed.

Chris Hanch  11-17-15

Greek/ American Dancer at a Festival--Opa!

Captured

It pleases me,

the fluttering red and gold

sails

of drifting autumn

leaves.

And too,

I am duly beguiled

by the laughter of a child

swung high.

Instrumental sounds

harmoniously found

by a symphony are a delight,

I would agree.

I am pleased,

beguiled and delighted

by all these indeed.

And I must say,

it does take my

breath away

to see a horse in full

gallop

with all four hooves

at once

lifted off the ground.

Chris Hanch  11-10-15

Traveler

I know where I have been. Lines which

crisscross my face lead from the Arch in

St. Louis across the Bridge at Sydney.

Don’t be afraid. It takes years to grow

weary from traveling among the briars.

Pick the berries where you find them.

Holes in my stockings mean I have left

a trail across the earth behind me, tiny

fibers of my being too small to follow.

Chris Hanch  11-7-15

Inheritance

I think about my grandfather’s modest fortune.

The monetary inheritance he left his children was

spent long before any of it could reach me. What

a pity. Not that I did not receive a penny of it, but

that the currency of reality did not withstand the

test of time.

Now, had he written a letter or a poem to be handed

down, let’s suppose, generations may have benefitted

from the wisdom of his belief. Grandfather died before

I could know him. Some of his thoughts in writing may

have helped. Ah but now, it is too late for all that. What

is a poor boy to do?

That is why I am writing this down today for you. Had

I a monetary fortune to pass along, it would more than

likely be spent summarily and soon forgotten. Words,

However, at least have a chance to accrue with some

compound interest. Choose them carefully, write them

Down, and they may last a lifetime, even beyond.

That is, barring flash flood or a fire. Best to have several

copies made, and check the batteries on your

smoke alarm. Just saying…

Chris Hanch  11-6-15

Just Trying to Survive

Excuse me, I’m just trying to get my life lived between

epochs of epic destruction. Fortunately for me, I have

somehow sandwiched my existence in between two

crusty slices of species extinguishing events.

I barely missed those Hiroshima and Nagasaki things. Just

Two years and 6,500 miles of separation between me and

being blasted into oblivion. (As I see it, those atomizing in-

fernos were far too close for comfort.)

And I consider myself lucky indeed to have been elsewhere

during tsunami-swept destruction and volcanic eruption.

Unwittingly, I have managed to dodge those destructive tor-

nadic pathways which plow annually through the Midwest.

I’m just a regular guy trying to get through my life before some-

thing disturbingly dark and sinister engulfs and eradicates the

heartland of my existence. From a personal perspective, I have

managed to evade Armageddon all my life.

Historically speaking, however (and even Vegas odds-makers

would agree), my chances of survival have dwindled to less than

a fifty-fifty split. And my forecast for bright and sunny days re-

maining here on Planet Earth are at best dwindling in number.

Somehow I have managed to make it to the gray stages of old

age with my two dogs in toe and wobbly ways. I have survived

thus far through traffic’s flow of annihilation which I have faced.

Shh, do you hear that roar?

Methinks the asteroid of inevitable change is approaching.

Chris Hanch11-5-15