Author: Hazel J. Hall
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My agent asked for an updated author bio
This poem was written by a monster; this poet, too. A story of life when remembered by my mind would be an itemized list, which certainly tells a tale but not a very good one. I have dreams of another life. In between the joy of a memory, I pick apart my life and find…
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Bottom of the Mountain River
Today, you are a river otter. You slide into the stream from the slope of the shore, watching the silver shiners swim in every which way. They are fighting for their survival. But so are you. It’s dinner; you must hunt. You work until you catch enough to eat yourself, and then some extra to…
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Oceania: The Last Beach
Humanity had lessened since its peak of billions; selfishness proved to be as mortal as they were. Now there is only one beach. One final shore before the abyss of clouds. Sky void remnants of what no longer shines. A woman stands before the water. Her toes feel the sand. Plastic. It feels like plastic.…
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Same Tunes, New Radio
there comes a time when the memory is so vivid it turns a double truth the grape pain meds and the stinging burn when it goes down dulled by time it all comes back when the music plays. remember when it was only words? the noises and these pitches have since become us every sound…
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Infelix
When the car headlights flash against the ceramic flowerpot, still sitting on the corner of the porch where you left it, I see your green feline eyes. Still waiting where I left them. Whoever first said black cats were unlucky never got to meet you. Every time I cried, you found all the hurting places.…
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After the Breath is Music
he sits atthe edge of his stool. atthe end of things.a tumultuous tower beforethe edge of void, pressing in;a piano key hit beforethe void of whatwe do not know. every sightto be seen stares back at us now.him pressing those keys,playing piano, head tossed back gazing up to sky and seeing our lasting resonanceour closing…
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heat death
we are a high school, honey-love crush, terribly beautiful at our tipping point to the contact. staring into abyssal zones. walking on water; wading; raising generations of fish through this finality. the poem steering directionlessness into its narrative. the death of oceans as a wicked strangling no one wants to solve. it is all simply too evil and we are…
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Logging Off?
Yeah, 10 hours yesterday / I am happy though / (happier than most) / Satisfied, even / I mean, the rush is never as strong as the first time it hit / but at least something is guaranteed / it’s the internet / there always *has* to be something out there / something else to…
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moon lover, star gazer
we’re at the bottom of a well / looking through to the heavens / why are you crying? you’re like the sun honey / the sun / why are you crying? / i’m here. i’m right here. / every staple on the telephone pole was once a cat who was lost / found. / a…
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The Wall in My Therapist’s Office
At the end of every appointment, I drag myself from her office, walking past the vibrant banners. Each flag is illustrated with its own colors and flown by its own people. Like a lighthouse, they guide the lost home. Like a moon on the water, they create peace amongst the chaos of the world. The…
Hazel J. Hall 