A short collection of poems by Daniel Hansen

THUMP There is a porcelain sheen to your step, Boy, go down to the hill; stop, pick it up. A day, a tobacco day, tonguing its hilarity: find it, pull it out; it is -- knotted to the hill. Boy -- you dig your knuckles in the loam that squats on the dime store slope, that hoots at you like the bony girl with mushroom-cap breasts freckled and pallid, lapping at your clavicle. You plow into its rooty pubes, fall outside the seventh cloud, its mo...