Hugh Steinberg Poems

I want to be
intricate inside
you I want to open
...

Brought only low-key tools with him: a battered
guitar laid flat on a tabletop, a couple of cheap
effects pedals. Played it with sympathy, using its
...

The beds, the bedding
and the need of rest.
The ground was tough, knotty
...

in pockets, is nothing in
itself, that asphalt, those letters,
says I remember, it swept through
...

The land is mowed of its names, feel bravery towards unusual things.
A risk for me. Risks are good. Symptoms flare. Get to arch
into your own body deep in its exile. Oh sparrow you say,
...

A nice shirt, drying on the line, describing shadows, cracks; earwigs
curl in the folds. We are dubious the poor will get one flannel waistcoat.
Or birds that hunt from the ground, flying up to capture prey a kind of nostalgia.
...