change of seasons

it was a sweltering day, brutal

to those living in it

she was starting up again

offering up another bellyful

i ignored her

preferring instead

to watch sweat drip onto the page

i pulled from my bottle

a deep wistful pull

one filled with the hope

that this one would die quickly

it was too damn hot out

cigarette in place she gathered steam,

"you lazy drunken bastard

you don't know what a lady wants

you don't know how to treat a real lady

shit, you can't even get it up"

"you don't give me one single reason to try," i replied

and that was my mistake

she ripped a curtain rod

from its anonymous place

and homed in

hunched over, i took it

when the rod began finding its mark

the right ear

the corner of its neighbor, the eye

i snatched it from her hand

and threw it like a spear

through the apt. window

leaving behind a small perfect hole

as proof of its existence

i turned back to the blank page

back to sweating (and now) bleeding

as her cigarette smoke

wrapped itself around my head

a scarf

for what will surely be

an early winter

ÓDan Harnett October 1996

hunting season

it's hunting season again

and the news is filled

with stories

of shooting prowess

man shot

because somebody thought

he was a deer

deer shot because it was

a deer

all this shooting in woods

while those in cities

stay put to be shot

at home i stare out the window

as my wife calls from the kitchen

"dear, come here a minute"

and for a moment

the audible cocking of our relationship

is all that i hear

ÓDan Harnett October 1996

lip service

she is the sum of all

her parts

separately unremarkable

arms (two)

legs (both)

etc. (etc.)

except for her face, all

green eyes, cheekbones and

lips

oh, those lips

they cause men to stare

stammer and

shudder

at the potential in

those lips

there's more here

but after those lips

why bother?

ÓDan Harnett January 1997

spring has sprung

and its a good day for breasts

warm (70°) and sunny

and they are OUT

big breasts

small ones

lopsided ones

droopy-dropping-saggy ones

pert ones and

unencumbered free-spirited

breasts, the best kind

recklessly displaying the bounce

of their existence

their hard-soft composition

pushing stitches to limits

sometimes

the dark magic of nipple

glows through

causing cars to crash

marriages to falter

and poems to be written

ÓDan Harnett May 1996

listen

when i am gone, i will still

watch over you

make certain you

takecare

for when the hair

on your neck

hackles, or your skin

goosebumps

or your gut stirs

listen

for it will be me

whispering in your ear

ÓDan Harnett December 1996