Wednesday, October 26, 2016

That Which Longs to be Said


The bee is not burdened with indecision.
It does what it does, pollinating among the
Flowers with no doubt or hesitation, its
Honey, a gift to the world. The fox depends

Upon its stealth and cunning. Most of its
Business is done under the cover of darkness,
Receiving neither criticism nor praise for its
Failures or successes. Christopher, at day’s

End you empty your pockets to lie down with
More questions than answers. Dreams help
Some, but there is a great deal missing in the
Interpretation. You have come this far not by

Favor or merit, neither based upon your wit
Nor talent, but by a random avoidance of
The number assigned you at birth. The lottery
Of life is unfairly played with a short breath

And a scant heartbeat each second of every day.
Face the reality of it all, your hill climbing days
Are over. The limping and hunched shoulders,
The twisted scowl of pain indelibly etched into

Your face tell you that the past has a hefty and
Cumbersome weight. And here you are, neither
Fox nor bee, fortunate nonetheless, able to say
In abiding words that which longs to be said.

Chris Hanch 10-26-16



Thursday, October 6, 2016

Choices and Chance


I don’t suppose my father ever saw it coming.
Had mother a clue, she may have stayed home
Instead of attending the dance. Everyone takes their
Chances, and is left to live with the consequences.

In the supermarket of life there are many choices:
Some prefer the generic; others will settle for
Nothing less than the brand-name best. The runaway
Train misses you by seconds and your best friend

Winds up at the wrong place in time. Father had his
Dreams; mother saw things completely differently.
There are no winners in that scenario. You buy a
Ticket expecting a lighthearted comedy and live

Through a wide-screen, 3D horror film instead. Shit
Happens, and you deal with it. Somehow I’ve managed
To make it this far heading into my seventieth year of
This fairytale. I too opted to attend the dance on a day

I would have been better off staying home. Today, I find
Myself eating dinner alone off a mishmash assortment
Of bowls and plates. Father lived into his eighty-ninth
Year, and my guess is he never saw it coming.


Chris Hanch 10-6-16

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Some Sagacious Advise


Had you asked me when I was seventeen about
that which was central to my life at that time, I may
have discussed my views of the future—a job or
career, women, friendships, cars and the like.

Had you asked me the same, when as an adult in my
twenties or thirties, I would have included marriage,
children and a home for family. I certainly would have
maintained my concerns over job, career and cars.

Of course priorities change as we age. Topics such as
politics, cost of living, health, income, taxes and savings,
education, relationships and family, recycling and global
warming enter into the priorities which tend to become
more germane or weightier on the psyche.

At age 60, 70 or 80 many of the challenges and questions
we may have entertained in our more vital and productive
years have gone the way of muscle, mental acumen, physical
desires and dependence on the material. (It is now too late to
summit Mt. Everest, and the train to greatness has long ago
left the station.)

So, for many of us who have survived the rigorous tests of
time, it has come to this—most of our needs have either already
been met, spent or surrendered due to physical or mental
diminution. Some may look back at the sordid freak-show
profundity of their existence, and apply a more gracious and
sagacious tenor about life.

I have given a good deal of consideration about my particular
situation and personal experience. You may ask, is there any
sound advise I would impart to the young folks just beginning
their journey into the great unknown? Yes, indeed there is—
I would recommend trying peanut butter and the chocolate chip
ice cream before bed. Not together, of course, nor at the same
time. Oh, and consider getting rid of the car: Your eyesight and
reactions aren’t what they used to be; and the car has always
been a royal pain in the ass.


Chris Hanch 10-2-16