E.J. Hudak: (Poems 23-26)

Steve

I have a friend

who has a head

we go places

because he is a magic giant

A magic giant

with a head

a heart

& a mind

which on occasion

climbs inside me

to work the controls

pointing me onward

the direction

of the up-elevator

robots stop and rust

without magic giants

with heads

hearts

& minds.

Mallory’s Bar & Grill

When I was young

I was truly young & spent my days

          on a sandblown dune

Answering the gulls

victim of the sun, gathering castoff wood

          by the foam till noon.

All my friends

from the other world, built their lives

          on a split-level hill

Amid two cars & a dog

feeding the brain, seduced by its speed

          forgetting the sky

Cursing the snow

cursing the rain, laughing & pursuing

          their ten-carat dreams

Climbing

the crushed-stone serpent’s back & damning it

          all at Mallory’s Bar & Grill.

Mallory’s Bar & Grill

cars lie rusting in stacks, rubber & oil stain

          the serpent’s back

Houses tumble

as a natural whim as brains glow bright

          & masters grow dim.

The dune shifts

before my eyes, hair graying, skin going leather

          but still the sea

Offers wood to me

the gulls cry, ‘Old man, our living was good.’

          our roof was the sky our house that sandy hill.

Laugh on my friends

of the other world, your house & stars

          were Mallory’s Bar & Grill;

Lift your glasses to the sun

lift your glasses to the sea, & gather at my gravesite

          as the wind & sand bury me.

New Years Eve

I arrived at nine

& already Ids lay

shattered and broken

in pieces on the floor;

They were dragging

the old man

kicking & screaming

out the door;

you would think he’d go willingly

A drink …

a kiss …

the blast of a horn;

no reason to suspect

this child to be any different

once it’s born

A Song For Judy

Judy always liked to dance

Most nights when I’d come over

I would surprise her pirouetting

Before the mirror

One yellow spring day

Judy fell in love with an accountant

Who only liked to dance

When he was drunk

I never saw Judy after that

But I would picture her longing

For the crystalline ballroom

And the hush of all those crinolines

Now when I walk alone through country fields

I imagine Judy spinning from my grasp

Dancing ever dancing waist-deep

In tall grass and yellow flowers

Then too I think of that accountant

In some gray convention town

Laughing and drinking with an overnight wife

While Judy comforts a crying child.

The False Panacea

Selling the sizzle

and not the steak

Milking a lie

universities take

 

In debt-ridden wastelands

they prey on our youth

With worthless diplomas

— that mortgage untruth

 

*****

 

Whims That Betray

 

He sobs false remission

to skirt admonition

as his Guardian Angel

smiles …

 

“What’s with the tears

after so many years

and choices rejecting

denial

 

“You did what you pleased

without Heaven appeased

and lay prostrate

feigning regret

 

“This game isn’t played

at the whims of betrayal

And called you must pay

— for what tears can’t correct”

 

*****

 

Love Centered Circle

 

The things that I’ll miss

are the things I looked past

Those small hidden moments

in memory that last

 

Giving up little

to chase what had burned

Distracted I forayed

the magic unlearned

 

Now distant a loner

I look for those tracks

I made through greed’s sand

to find my way back

 

Because there in the center

holding all that we give

A love centered circle

— where joyousness lives

 

(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Waiting Game

The back room

of creation

where much of life

is spent

 

Victim to

the waiting game

where doldrums

reinvent

 

All dressed up

and ready

with nowhere

clear to go

 

Waiting for

that flash of light

to put me

— in the know

 

*****

 

Reality Preying

 

Not killing

time

Time killing

him

The hourglass

drains

As life

grows thin

 

Slaying the

dragon

A fantasy

still

Reality

preying

On folly

— distilled

 

*****

 

 

Stepping Out

 

More than a

lifetime

Unmeasured

by years

Enlightenment

prospers

No doubting

or fear

 

Stepping out

of the circle

And into the

light

Dimension

is truant

With reference

— contrite

 

*****

 

One Slip

 

Life

on the edge

where finality

threatens

Hope

meets disaster

both tightening

their grip

 

Never

look down

with redemption

above you

One slip

and the promise

 of glory

— submits

 

*****

 

 

Darkness Retreating

 

Writing

to a standard

new standards

are drawn

Light

disinfecting

a bevy

of wrongs

 

Writing

to a standard

the truth

is upheld

Darkness

retreating

deception

— expelled

 

*****

 

To Bask In Its Presence

 

Writers

have a double edged

courtship with time

Cutting both ways

past and future

defined

 

But the moment’s

unwritten

unspoken unrhymed

To bask in its

presence

— you live it sublime

 

(The New Room: June, 2026)

 

 

 

 

 

 

For The Losers

What’s for the losers

what’s for those lost

 out of the spotlight

alone in the frost

 

What’s for those orphaned

from acceptance and fame

who live out their lyrics

— in search of a name

 

*****

 

Baby Steps

 

It’s amazing the things

you think you can still do

once you’re really too old to do them

 

It’s amazing the excuses

you cling to with dear life

 the facts dead set against them

 

With each new passing day

your vision conforms

to the fantasy growing inside you

 

Until time runs its course

with the hourglass dry

 and set free — baby steps in the queue

 

*****

 

Prescience Surrounds

 

Happening — slow

remembering — fast

Time’s rearview mirror

spins life in a flash

 

This minute in real time

the past is abridged

Those days in between

neither one will forgive

 

With every step forward

there’s two taken back

Where fate trails behind you

and poised to attack

 

Until the epiphany

of prescience surrounds

And frees you from both

— in this moment profound

 

*****

 

Arteries Free

 

An angering hemorrhage

of violence old

America needing

a tourniquet bold

 

A triage in process

new choices to make

To save what is reasoned

and lessen its fate

 

Defending each stitch

with sutures retained

No bandage is needed

when blood is contained

 

Once over the trauma

there’s hope in the wind

Its arteries free

— of the deadliest sin

 

*****

 

L’ Optique

 

Away from the

darkness

not into

the light

 

A glass when

refilled

halfway up

‘is what might …’

 

What might be

half empty

what might be

half full

 

One thing

or the other

a parallax

— lull

 

*****

 

 

A Reminder

                                                                                         

Tomorrow’s poem …

it dwells among us

Like the shadow

of a statue

Unsculpted

in the mist

 

Tomorrow’s poem …

implanted glory

That hides in futures

past unseen

A reminder of what

— we’re yet to know

 

(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Avoiding The Mirror

For all the lame reasons

I could never be there

Treasured moments

when I stayed away

 

For all those times

excuses were made

And for whose faults

I’m justly blamed

 

I’d change them all

in my twilight

To spend my time

making amends

 

But sadly life gives us

only one chance

To make the right choices

to love and befriend

 

These scars that I carry

the weight I must bear

For my sins of omission

their punishment fair

 

As now I sit lonely

away from the fire

Avoiding all mirrors

— where memory conspires

 

(The New Room: June, 2026)

 

 

Ode To Ian Tyson

Only the wind

is forever

Only a mountain

at dawn

Only the West

is my lover

Only to her

 I belong

 

Every time

  I leave her

The trail back

 stays open unclaimed

A voice in the canyon

still calling

O’er the river that christened

— my name

 

 

(13th Annual National Cowboy Poetry Gathering: January, 1997)

Elko Nevada- 2 Guitars A Mandolin & Fiddle

Soundbites: 5-7-2026

Neither Here Nor There

 

Caught

in transition

Straddling

the line

Neither

here nor there

Truant

to define

 

Change

to mark my entry

Change

to bid my leave

Almost here

almost there

Living

— in between

 

*****

 

In The Rafters

 

Alone

he resides

in his fortress

Embittered

and humbled

by life

 

With four

darkened walls

to surround him

A kingdom

of sorrow

and blight

 

Self-pity

betroths

and becomes him

Engaged

to his torment

and pain

 

And hope

but a fleeting

lost notion

That hides

in the rafters

— unclaimed

 

*****

 

 

The Myth

 

Destroying tomorrow

in search of today

The myth in abeyance

— where present I pray

 

(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)

 

 

False Words

 

With more than

one side to a story

Someone

is obviously lying

 

False words to defend

what at best is pretend

Truth as the victim

— there is no denying

 

*****

 

Three Words

 

The smile of a baby

the sound of goodbye

a moment endearing

a deepening sigh

 

Those things that we treasure

and some that we don’t

wrapped often together

in souring notes

 

There’s pain in the leaving

but joy that’s implied

upon your returning

three words in reply

 

A door shuts behind you

where love calls your name

and all through the wasteland

 — there kindle’s your flame

 

*****

 

Flowing Under

 

Rejecting the past

I found a way forward

My exit route open

all roads pointing East

 

Yesterday frozen

today flowing under

The cold and the barren

— whose waters run deep

 

*****

 

Lost & Missing

 

Knowing enough

to feel I’m right

But not enough

to know I’m wrong

Caught in the distance

of misdirection

Lost and missing

— a world gone wrong

 

(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Lakota Mothers Prayer

United Natives of America 7th generation uprisings.
March 24, 2018

A Lakota Mothers Prayer
(From: Searching For Crazy Horse)
________________________
‘Wana Hin Gle’ the Lakota call me,
‘Wana Hin Gle’ my given name
‘He Who Happens Now,’ the drum beat has found me,
reaching into this moment beyond glory and fame
As ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my spirit has wandered,
as ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my ancestors call
The questions dissolve, as The Great Mystery beckons,
the campfire eternal, the chanting enthralls
“Wana Hin Gle,” my Mother calls proudly,
“your horse is now ready, your shield fixed with bone
Off into the prairie you must ride in the twilight,
the People will dance until their son returns home
Wana Hin Gle, you must now happen quickly,
the buffalo are all captive, starvation allowed
Your eyes look upon the great Wakan Tanka,
whose absence has shamed us, who once were so proud
As the great Tasunka Witko who traveled before you,
you must wait for your horse to come out of the lake
Great Mother River and Great Mountain Father,
to your will they entrust what The People forsake
Your vision must suffer, the babies still cry,
the cold through the tent flaps, all future in blight
You must leave us now, but leave us in darkness,
for when you return, a new vision will burn bright
You will ride to the top of the ‘Pass Of The Bears,’
ask the Grizzly, our brother, if the demon still preys
If it does, you must kill it, for this time and always,
it has hovered above us keeping spirits away
The White Horse will take you from the lake to the mountain,
and the stallion will sprout wings with its hooves fiery hot
You will trample this demon and burn him before you,
the smoke will then signal of what he is not
Wana Hin Gle, my son; the time is for going,
your vision awaits, past-futures on hold
The Medicine Woman is locked deep inside you,
your People die waiting—the young and the old”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2018