person Danielle Hanson, three poems

Danielle Hanson is the author of Fraying Edge of Sky (Codhill Press Poetry Prize, 2018) and Ambushing Water (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2017). Her work has appeared in over 70 journals, won the Vi Gale Award from Hubbub, was Finalist for 2018 Georgia Author of the Year Award and was nominated for several Pushcarts and Best of the Nets. She is Poetry Editor for Doubleback Books, and is on the staff of the Atlanta Review. Her poetry has been the basis for visual art included in the exhibit EVERLASTING BLOOM at the Hambidge Center Art Gallery, and Haunting the Wrong House, a puppet show at the Center for Puppetry Arts. More about her at daniellejhanson.com.

Valentine Poem

Darkness lays down
across the room
like a dog, curling.

The dimming sounds of
the house circle
the air with the fan.

Sleep creeps in
to steal the feeling
of lying next to you.

Alps

The ground has taken a running start, an attempt
to storm heaven. It has been struck down by gods—
frozen motion. This happened before history and now
only bell-strung cattle still remember the story.
They tell it to clouds gathering to listen.

Capture

I’m going outside
to capture some
sky in this
bottle, take it
inside and pour
it down the drain
until the house
floats. A ship
around a bottle.

person Danielle Hanson, two poems

Danielle Hanson is the author of Fraying Edge of Sky (Codhill Press Poetry Prize, 2018) and Ambushing Water (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2017). Her work won the Vi Gale Award from Hubbub, was Finalist for 2018 Georgia Author of the Year Award and was nominated for several Pushcarts and Best of the Nets. She is Poetry Editor for Doubleback Books, and is on the staff of the Atlanta Review. More about her at daniellejhanson.com.

~~.

Cat Love

The cat loves his kill,
walks around it in
circles, nuzzles it
softly, purrs
into its wounds,
wants to bring it inside
his soft belly.

.~~

Mouse

The mouse
collects footfalls
to make a nest,
gives birth
to a litter of winds.

.~~.

{contributor news}

Former contributor Danielle Hanson has received the Codhill Press Poetry Award for Fraying Edge Of Sky

book is here:
https://www.daniellejhanson.com/fraying-edge-of-sky/

some words on it:

The beautiful and fanciful investigations in Danielle Hanson’s Fraying Edge of Sky are homages to magical realism but are also lyrical bursts in splendidly gilt frames. The precise language of the poems conjures up the overlooked details of a world that, in its hurry, will miss them. The light in a bucket of water, the ribbon-like fog, the small mice who are angelic in their infestations—all are an inventory of the miraculous that Hanson’s truly original voice urges us to hear and to hold close.
Oliver de la Paz, author Requiem for the Orchard

Also, check out Hanson’s work in {isacoustic*} here:
https://isacoustic.com/2018/04/02/person-danielle-hanson-three-poems/

person Danielle Hanson, three poems

Danielle Hanson is the author of Fraying Edge of Sky (Codhill Press Poetry Prize Winner, 2018) and Ambushing Water (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2017). Her work has appeared in over 50 journals. She is Poetry Editor for Doubleback Books, and has edited Loose Change Magazine and Hayden’s Ferry Review. Daniellejhanson.com

*

The Ant Curse

I attach a curse to ant,
whisper your name in its ear.
Memories are like ghosts
you can’t look in the eye.
The dead have their own
tasks, lists that always
begin with departure.
Are you dead yet?
There is ant
that is curse
looking for you.

~~~

Urban Renewal

Let’s look at that empty lot over there,
where liquor store with more dust
and rust than bottles once stood.
Let’s imagine it as field—let’s cover it
with flowers—purples, blues, reds,
and enough yellow to make us squint a little.
And let’s inscribe each petal with a fortune,
or the name of a past lover, or a secret involving
blood and lots of it. Let’s use the most expensive
inks, set types lost since the Middle Ages.
Then let’s light it up—let’s watch
flora ghosts rising from a field on fire.

~~~

In the Olden Days

A witch could knock at your door
and hand you universe, a goddess
could turn into tree, or something
even better, a horse could tell you a story.
But here, there’s just stupid
light from the window, dirt covering
yard, and weeds made entirely of thorns;
asphalt and rot in abundance; rat
dying in wall. And sometimes,
dog sleeps with a soft ear lightly
on you and then, there’s that
glorious light in the window . . .

*