Biography of Hunter Hansen
I am Hunter Hansen.
I invite you to read (and re-read) my work.
Forgive the idiosyncrasies within, but understanding is granted to those who look deeper.
It all becomes clear, eventually. Continue. Find it rewarding. I post very little of my entire body of work. What I do post is released for a reason. Trust me, I throw no intentionally lame poetry out there; give it all a few reads until it clicks. You will find it rewarding.
As for my biography: Like I mentioned before, I am Hunter Hansen.
Hunter Hansen Poems
The batteries of powder as they drive Through a clearing; have and have not survive A tale of tempest and tempest’s tale Telling of the trees that stood when the winds prevail
As my body, pierced, stripped and bleeding Dragged on a circuit around my walled city Of indefatigable resolve I lay wounded, dying, hurried
The apple peeler Is a handy contraption and a Knife fighting trick That pains far worse than
In Winter Still
The axe through the wooden piles plows through Cleaving, a wintry fog and dry rain leaving, And chips of timber and clovers left in silence pondering
Consider my surroundings; the snow-capped lava stones Freckling the landscape pristine, a whited glassy sheen Glistening with reflections on a sharpened sky of blue And shimmering with frigid stillness, sunshine no warmth bears
Having lost myself in wandering Watching one estranged conductor leading Some symposium of roses
Call It Black (But Let It Be True)
Fabrications On a theme And its variants
Vignettes and oubliettes With curios stacked upon a buttered shelf And myself Strolling amid the raindrops on mournful descent
October ushers forth its own fangéd dreams Sinking its sharpened teeth into the lushness of the future, As with cadences of moonlight falling, as do the deceased Raindrops continue to rain over those who in their silent
Edge Of Decaying
As dreamt on the fringe of light decaying Mourning the snow falling in rain Melting in hearts split apart by distance Joined by voice
Of A Beginning
A stunning denouement, a riposte Like flaming posts in the Garden of Eden Left me bleeding And still needing, in need of still
A mellow dramatic shift precluding Anticipation of return To lonely long distances between Horizons spanning wind and wilderness
Arise, My Sun
The dawn anew rose, riding in on a glazed Trumpeting blast: ballast of fury, immolation, Sunlight in gentle slumber hidden within the stars Only slightly, as the earth continues turning
The wide road to the edge leads to a place no one wishes to find And only one step leads to journeys of unfathomable lengths All it takes is one spark to set a forest alight, one word to start a burning love
The First Day
In this you show me I have won
With ever so subtle subtleties
Unknown to common man
The riddle begins
Strange, this sound of stone
Far from the icy nucleus of Nuuk
I told Jan Johannson it was but
An endless stream, but not believing