Poetry By Nathan Hassall

Nic McPhee CC



​
The Loss of an Old Friend


falls from the cloud-fattened evening
each line of rain melts into earth’s singing mouth,
throbbing: 

Maybe in the separation            between grass
and soul        

the space between raindrops
between organs in order of failure
brown earth    white rock     cloud torn
by a finger-bone moon

Maybe in the separation             between grass
and soul         are seeds       

a river slices through the mountain’s ribcage
into the reservoirs of the last sentence you garbled
from your face-down concrete skull
flooding my mind with lyric

Maybe in the separation        between grass
and soul          are seeds          that fill
the gaps                              between worlds 

just outside the hospital ward in your last bleep
a bird plunges its beak into the soft body of a fish
a daisy stems through a tonsil of dirt   
into a leafing vernacular of light 


​
​
Nathan Hassall believes in poetry's transformational potential. He weaves dreams, altered states, numinous experiences, and the natural world into his work. Hassall's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Red Noise Collective, La Piccioletta Barca, The Inflectionist Review, and more. He currently serves as the Poet Laureate of Malibu, California. Find out more at www.nathanhassall.com.