Volume 8, August 2013

John Fenlon HoganView Contributor’s Note

Lyric Deposition

When I asked for a lesson, you gave me a walnut.
When I asked for a spell, you gave me a hand towel
and a drinking well. It took all of my limbs to outrun
the wind which was harmless. The blood in my palms
pulsing like What are you doing; my shadow startling
at me like a cat in love with the sidewalk. These hands
are more accustomed to rougher: naugahyde and distance;
heartache and the spear shaft that follows from it.
A man could spend his whole life duct taping the seams
of his castle. Still the ants would work their way in
and we’d call it sadness. This place in which exposed
piping is our only source of warmth and awe.
When I asked for intention, you gave me the world.
A spade and some dirt would have been simpler.