Outlaw Poets is an inclusive electronic publication produced by Studio Appalachia and features poetry and art by the Outlaw Poets Group. Contact studioappal@gmail.com for more information.
Thursday, June 1, 2023
Bond Denied
Bleeding From Our Roots
The Warrior
ALLOW MY WORDS TO RESONATE
We Build Towers
Take Me
I woke feeling I was in Van Morrison’s
song, Take Me Back. I woke from dreams
of Mom doing our laundry with the wife,
Ruth, of our landlord in their basement
on Mondays and hanging the clothes
outside with wooden clothespins
and watching the clothes blow in the wind
drying sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
And everyone was alive, felt, seemed
real and I knew, then, I was dreaming
wondering what such a dream might
mean and I lingered in bed on the border
of waking and dreaming, torn between
the desire for each. Dad asking, “A little
more coffee?” and now I am up, making
my coffee wondering where that voice
came from and thinking from the grave
which is six hours from here and how
even the voice of a ghost cannot carry
that far and think I must have slipped
in time, that no dream can hold such
reality and I look outside to see the clothes
on the clothesline and see nothing.
Sigh, sip my coffee, see the signs that
I have slipped out of that time into
what now is mine and whisper, “Take
me back. Take me way back. . .”
-Byron Hoot
Thursday, May 4, 2023
Cartographers
The drive back felt long,
as if the hour and forty
minutes had multiplied,
the miles adding to themselves
as time and distance elongated
by recollections whole and fragmented.
I drove the roads I know and it
was like digging in a mine where
someone was yelling, “Get out
of there!” and I yelled back, “Not
yet!” the exchange tinted with some
unknown but felt fear that later
might conclude by some logic
beyond my understanding though
nothing I could deny. I drove and drove
and drove. Pulled into my driveway,
an hour forty-five but it felt like time
out of eternity, that reckless disregard
of time and place to be in what is called
now, memories the cartographers used making
the map as I drove. They waiting as I got
out of the car, unlocked the front door
and entered before I did.
-Byron Hoot
One Word
I can explain the hesitation, the distance between intention and completion by one word – Parkinson’s. I don’t know if there is any blame...
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The dream felt memorable. Then I awoke and it was gone. I thought how in hunting the moment has to be just right to make the shot and...
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The Barn Swallows fly across my porch, before my kitchen door and I catch the curve of their flight trying to recall if I’ve seen one fly ...
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The prayers of wind and rain and the cold incense on which they’re carried this New Year’s eve are prophecies of what is not to come again a...