top of page
  • Gary Hunter

They call you Winter, old man - Mar 8, 2022

the snowy beard

that hides the cold

deep voice that frames

the ice blue eyes

your red-cheeked January

shivers inside a white blanket

but it’s March now

you don’t look well

the beard is muddy

eyes drip sadness

your softer words

lost in bird song

come April

I sit with you

on your deathbed

and we both hear it


from newborns

of all creatures

twisting in the sun


Recent Posts

See All

It's Clouds - April 2, 2022

it’s clouds I dislike when my soul is cold and hope must search in their shadows it’s clouds I need to force a houseclean or at least reduce the dust on my library of regrets it’s clouds I browbeat if

Notice in a Film - April 1, 2022

if you don’t care about the characters your heart falls asleep? life is no different anyone that tumbles into a well needs only confess regret and plead their deepest need to awaken neighbors who thro

Spring is Sexy - March 31, 2022

for the raven who blows out his head feathers to attract a sweetie like a black-leathered Fonz he mumbles an off-color pickup line that cocks her head before both spot the ham sandwich on pumpernick


bottom of page