Badlands

Too bad so many of the long, cool cars have been disappearing from the roads in favor of shorter, gas efficient smartcars. Here's a little poem/song and photospread dedicated to the cars of yesteryear and the wonderful feelings of grandeur they inspire. Partially motivated by the Ballston Spa, NY antique auto show/partially motivated by rockabilly great Reverend Horton Heat. Words and images at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Ford feeling

I just have a bottom feeling
that if I could ever tame you
if I could somehow own you like a toy
somewhere in your metal-housed heart
you'd take more care of me than any human boy,
my long ass Ford.
And a girl can love the city
and a girl can love her tomcat
but one thing she can't reclaim
is how a girl can't quite replace the love
of her long ass Ford.
Day will come I'm sitting pretty,
I won't need you anymore;
I'll be driving a Mercedes
or some Italian badass black imported front-of-the-line sportscar.
But one thing you'll never damage
is my once forever love
for my long ass Ford.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Auto class

Who has the sharpest fins in Ballston Spa, NY? We try to find out with the latest photo and blogspot, with shots of classic cars galore -- find out more and read the source at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

New York nocturne

Images of a train and its passengers at night light up the imagination -- how is it that people who are all seemingly on the same trajectory can be moving in such different directions? More considerations of the art and poetry of night at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Long slow rightness

Sometimes it is hard
just to stand so patiently by
and wait as evening turns
its grimmer shades
and then puts on a fairer face
and livens into night --
how do I know what will come
around the nearest bend,
or what these day-bright lights
can render in the misbegotten
hollow space they will leave behind,
as sure they will in their slow
forsaken trajectories?
They discover me out
only for a fraction of a frame,
but it is long enough --
I am pinioned
in their rightness,
stand up straighter,
eyes to the line.


Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Waiting at the station

What is it about trains and railway stations that makes us think about life? Why do they so often bring out the spirit of the blues in people? Tom Waits wrote a number of great songs about the train yard, about where a person comes from and where they're going -- thinking about some of the same things here in Schenectady on a blustery, bluesy day. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Rail divide

Griddy girl,
lost along the wide divide,
I can't measure how many
passes of this pen between me
and your hummy clutches,
cluttering down the rail,
lost before you're ever quite
out of sight.
We'd whisper to each other
far beneath the smoky sky
that no one would miss us,
plump a cattail underneath
our heads and go to sleep,
a whistle
faintly distant.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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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

view with images 2559, 2560, 2561, and 2558  from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.