One for the road

A group of photos taken at the Schenectady train station in New York gives rise to thoughts of hitting the open road and running away from relationships gone bad. A little background music from Janis Joplin, and you have a perfect afternoon's escape. Blogpost and photographs at: blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Horizons -- Schenectady
(for John -- who loves trains)

Murk and stillness
govern, and in lieu
of goodbyes I would proffer
only a few terse words
to help resolve my endless
need to compensate --
for what?
For the loss of boundaries?
for an empty handshake,
cold before my hand even leaves
yours and grips the valise?
Never have I felt so
fallen into being, never so
imaginary, obtuse, and
purposed through.
My fare takes me not
halfway far enough
away from you,
not almost within an inch
of room to spare.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Pit stop

Sometimes you just want to stop for a quick bite to eat -- even photographers and poets get hungry! And road food? Not always the best. But in Schenectady, NY, you can look up First Prize Mike's for a great hot dog with their "special sauce" and some hot onion rings -- getting hungry yet? Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

No dilemma

It's hard to know,
will the "finest ever made"
forebode that magic brand
of American delight
that snaps pleasantly
like the lightest rubber band
against your eager teeth
and tongue, shooting juices
and spices, now a tender mix
with such joyous cohorts as slow-seasoned
meat gravy and grainy mustard --
ketchup has to wait its turn
for the devilish crunch of incalculably
fragrant and steamy vat-fried onions --
or will this yield an afternoon
fit for the Bromo ads?
Oh, First Prize Mike's,
your special sauce never steered
us wrong.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Shout out

Inspired by a barn? By a band? Find out how Paula Carino and the Markov Chains of Brooklyn, NY, and some photos of a falling-down barn led to an outpouring of emotion by your own poet. Photos and blog commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Epistolary

Why do you try --
letter you --
to cajole me with the sentence
when nothing more than fragments
keeps me at bay?
This is divine,
this crossing, unmet yet intertwined,
and I see it nightly
when my curtain swings
like a vampire in the breeze.
How do you get in?
I always hate the little spaces
underneath lost tribes,
lost letters, lost feelings,
lost embankments of
solitary trust --
but how do you get in,
when no one welcomes you,
and still manage
to resonate hope?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Transportational devices

Ever been on a trip to the past while you're standing in one place? This can happen just by visiting a location that feels familiar even though you may never have been there before. An old falling-apart barn in upstate NY leads to some crucial thinking and some "devastational" poetics...See photos and read more about the transport at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Useless pride

Backed down
like a Herzegovina nightmare,
it slips through slats
and suffers nothing less
than the slightest devastation.
Was it me in its poor cracked
pane or was it poorer vision?
I see the hairs I cut
still jagged and denying me.
I see the fragments of the last meal
pinned like kindergarten victories
to my working skirt.
Slats take cover, gray,
and founder in the night.
They hoard the sounds
of pestilence and pain,
and sort the weary from
the truly wretched.
When am I, farm-fronted,
and where am I and my
useless pride?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Love at first bite

You can't unbite an apple -- I'm sure that's what Eve must've thought. But it's very true. A little meditation and photoplay on the desire for forbidden fruit. Pictures and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Not of that tree

Is it true?
was all our simple sweetness
thrown aside to find
what possible pearl
lay beneath your stalwart skin?
Could we have seen within,
and known the deeper woes --
the tillage of the fields,
the shuddering of the grower
if the rains come hard or light --
we should have famished at the sight
or moved on in dumb design.
But so the story folded
and took that sin again;
no merchant sealed it with a coin
yet the soul of peace was sold
leaving only diffidence within.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Not far from the tree

Over at Golden Harvest Farms' orchard in Valatie, NY, the dwarf apple trees are now very heavy with fruit. We have a number of photos of these same trees -- spanning their cycle from February into late April in full flower up to now at the harvest -- and it makes for an interesting comparison. Experience their growth with us, and read more about the Farm at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Return to orchard -- harvest

The former forces
that delved your smooth
protuberances up rooting
toward the blue beyond
now abandon them to their red
globed fates -- they wait
pendantly footed and
what once was an upward-arcing,
skyward-stretching sketch is now
a fledged-out canopy,
realmed in earth and driven down
to compose a heavier,
deeper perfume,
looming low
and no less fragrant.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Once upon a yearling

It's that time of year -- when you may catch a glimpse of deer in the woods, sleeping off a recent meal on a bed of soft pine needles, staying as warm as they can, waiting for the change of seasons. They seem so peaceful -- it's hard to imagine that this is also prime hunting season. Photos and discussion at blog.amynelsonhahn.info...

Respite

Even in the frost of knowing,
these are warm --
the deer hasten
to relinquish their small blessings
and capsize languidly at last
on this forest floor.
Bitter winds are chastening,
days are sloping gracelessly
with the last green glints,
but under nests of nimble
thickened sheddings,
there the yearlings huddle,
even in the thick of days,
even in the auspice of preparing
for the hard frontier ahead.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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