Projection

 

Got to thinking again. I say again because

my thoughts have gotten me into trouble

before

Anyway, what the hell...had I been born

a hundred years before I was born, I

wouldn’t have to concern myself with the

likes of Donald J. Trump, Kevin McCarthy

and Mitch McConnell.

I wouldn’t have to worry about the Corona

Virus, the mass gun murders, rogue cops

and global warming.

Yes, there were bad guys, guns and dan-

gerous things happening a hundred years

before my birth. One just didn’t hear as

much about such things as often back then.

There was no Internet, Twitter, TV and

myriad other broadcasts flooding the

airwaves and inundating the brain.

One could float his dingy or canoe on

the lake of tranquility and drift peacefully

away into his days of old age.

I try to focus on the positive these days,

but the body is weak and fragile and the

mind is thusly geared the same way.

I could have not been born at all in which

case nothing ventured, nothing gained. Or

my life may have arrived a hundred years

too late, when things could have progressed

to be a hell of a lot worse.

Come to think of it, I’m damn near 75, and

a hundred years either way is not really that

great. Now a thousand years, with that big

a spread I could really speculate and project

a hell of a lot more.

Go big or go home. Throughout history,

folks have said that a lot even though

very few ever do.

                - 30-

Chris Hanch 7-11-2021

The Poetry Reading

 

It was sometime in the mid to late 80s,

I was to have a poetry reading at a coffee

house in Asheville, North Carolina where

I was house-sitting for a couple of college

professors who were traveling in Europe

for the summer. The name of the estab-

lishment escapes me now.

It was one of those small and cozy hole

in the wall places reminiscent of the Beat-

nick era of the 50s and 60s, close to down-

town.

I had a write-up in the local news paper,

The Citizen-Times, a few days prior to my

reading. My scheduled time was in the

middle of the day when most folks were

at work, school or play. Even so, being

an artsy university town gave me hope

that I would have a fair turnout.

I arrived at the appointed hour disap-

pointed to find only one couple seated

in the place. I greeted them and sat at

their table. I waited some 15-minutes,

giving would-be late-comers time to

arrive. No one else did. I then asked

the couple if I could give them a private

reading of some of my favorite works.

They were polite and amenable so I

proceeded.

A half-hour passed and no one else

arrived. So to an appreciative round

of applause, I bought my audience of

two another cup of coffee and left.

Of course I was a bit disappointed

with the lack of attendance at my

reading, but nonetheless Asheville

is a lovely town, picturesquely nestled

in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North

Carolina where I am sure to this day

wonderful poetry is inspired and

recited privately each day. It just

seemed to me that kind of place.

            - 30 -

Chris Hanch 7-10-21

Something About Sin (Inspired by Terry Collett's Poem, They Made Love the First Time 1962)

 

I was 15-years and in high school

in 1962 when I heard about my

friend, Ronnie, and his girlfriend,

Linda, having sex.

I had never given a thought about

life and death, copulation and such

biological things back then. I still

believed in Zorro, Mickey Mouse

and Captain Kangaroo. But Ronnie

and Linda having sex that was a

whole different thing—Frightening!

Granted, my body was going through

weird changes which no parent, teacher,

priest or nun ever fully explained to me.

I suppose at the time, I could have been

considered the Prince of Naiveté. Hell,

back then I never even knew what

naiveté meant.

I was told that sex was a sin, but as a

Catholic kid, so was eating meat on

Friday. And as far as I was concerned,

I’d rather go to hell for having a hot

dog on Friday than having sex with

some girl.

Eventually, that whole sex thing

turned out to be a a life changing

breakthrough for me.

In listening to my friends who

supposedly knew more than I

about sex, I was in shock initially.

It was far more disturbing for me

to find out how babies were made.

But there was a certain curiosity

aroused in me about my changing

physiology.

Two years later when I had my first

experience with sex and a woman,

it was an epoch life changer for me.

I then discovered sex could lead to

both pleasure and pain.

I was relieved, however, when the

Pope dispensed with the meat on

Friday thing. It was good to know

that there was one fewer sin in this

world which could damn me to

eternal hell.

               - 30 -

Chris Hanch 7-9-2021

Facebook Memories

You have memories to look back on today,

a Facebook entry reminding me. I usually

take a look to see what I was up to and

thinking 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6-years ago.

Usually, I check my photographs taken to

relive events of years ago. The Facebook

memories include poems I have written.

I have so many of those I have forgotten

many of them over time.

It’s like some other me sharing his thoughts

and memories. It’s interesting even refreshing

to revisit the old me, the younger man me I

used to be.

Hell, I, a more vital man then who before

disabilities modified his life, managed to

get around physically and mentally experi-

encing new reckonings and vistas damn

near every day. Hmmm...Not bad stuff,

even if I and my arthritic bones say so.

                - 30 -

Chris Hanch 7-7-2021 

Beware America, USA

Beware America, USA,

our Democracy is at stake.

Beware America, USA,

there are those who would take it away.

Beware America, USA,

Anarchy and White Supremacy are in play.

Beware America, USA,

taking away your right to vote is their game.

Beware America, USA,

Wake up before it’s too late.

Beware America, USA,

don’t allow the minority in Congress and

Republican State Legislatures determine our fate.

Beware America, USA,

let your voice be heard

before our precious Democracy slips 

                                                       slips

                                                           slips away...

                             - 30 -

Chris Hanch 7-4-2021 

The Photograph

 

I’d like to take your picture,

he said, meaning no harm

to her, not wanting anything

more. It will only take a minute,

of your time, he promised,

and it won’t hurt at all.

Dubious of his motives,

she hesitated and asked him,

why?

I take pictures of people,

he told her, and you are very

photogenic.

Yea, right, she thought to

herself, but was somewhat

flattered anyway. Of course,

she had the right to say yea

or nay. Sure, why not, go

ahead, she said.

So many faces, he thought

to himself, genially smiling.

Oh, the possibilities.

She had the look.

Who knows, she may

even become the next

modern day Mona Lisa.

Just a little grin

will be fine, he told

her, not a great big

smile.

She struck

the perfect pose,

and he said, there,

hold it. And snap,

it was over in a flash.

Years later, he held

his photo of her

in his hand.

She never did achieve

Mona Lisa status,

never even made

the local 6 o’clock news.

So many faces,

he thought to himself.

Still, she had the look.

          -30-

Chris Hanch 7-2-2021

Go Figure

 

I think you would understand better

if you didn’t know what I was saying.

Take rhododendrons soaked in mashed

potatoes, or Yes, please, pour me a urine

based elephant cocktail. What if I began

a poem at the end and end it with the

beginning? What if I didn’t write a word

and told you to fill in the blanks? Would

I then be guilty of the Sin of Omission?

I could compose a poem with only verbs,

Run, run, run, run, run, run... How then

would you know that I’m done, or who

it was really crossed the finish line first

and won? Face it, I am confused as hell,

and so are you. It has been that way ever

since...but that never stopped us from

trying. Give it up, I keep trying to tell

you, it’s all way beyond our understan-

ding. The complexities are far too

overwhelming, don’t you think? Let’s

you and I give it another shot tomorrow.

It’ll be a secret just between you and me.

There will always be those who believe

we might be crazy. Say your prayers and

finish your dinner. There are bound to be

those days which go unaccountable where

there is nothing momentous to say. Call me

looney, but on this day in passing I needed

to be on the record if for no other reason

than to fill in the blanks. Pretty self-serving,

wouldn’t you say? Isn’t that how we get by

on these mundane days we’ll never recall

anyway?

                  -30-

Chris Hanch 7-2-2021