Lonnie Hicks Poems

Each morning he would take a pick-ax to the Dawn, machete strokes anchored from the Decending Sickle Moon he, like Night, would show up with blood-red streaks on his ax and hack away at carving another day from a reluctant horizon, which flattened itself away trying not give him another day, trying indeed to conceal, Light and Hope from him.

All he had had to be fought for, pick-axed from scrabble ground and each day the sweaty effort his efforts had to be breach-born into the Light from the Dark.
...

Some say to me I'm pitiful
craving the joy you intend for another
I'm the shadow roommate
the homely friend of the beautiful
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We dance under the nascent moon
delicate twirls, eye twinkles
and tree shadows
far away horns blowing
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I can stretch my heart
like taffy dough
and try to reach yours by extension.
but will have in the stretching it will become
...

In her way she encircled him

told him in their talk the night before
...

Love's blind touch gropes in our dark
and I hear you giggle
reveling in the hide and seek
in your cape of satin sheets
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Had to get Gizmo out of the slammer today.

Animal control had him in the cage with the wet concrete floor and dripping water.
...

Bladed
How dull is the knife wielded in passion's ire
which lands that menacing blow
where the bad time amplifies
...

'All I want' she said' is to matter.'

'All I want' said the scientist 'is
to understand matter'.
...