Tom Hatch- A Poem

Thinking Like a Deaf Blind Dog

I can't see anything

I can't hear anything

Only the feel of two

Paws hitting the ground 

At the same time

That I cannot see

Then the other two paws

That I cannot hear

the joints are sore

happiness then upon

My tail wags joints

Are there even in pain

Leading to a place

A gully or culvert

Where it is a sleepy hollow

That I will be found

Before I die alone

Which is ok my 

Tail I cannot control

Wags beyond the

Deaf and blindness

If it were me it would be stew

I am licking in the silent air alone

 

 

Tom paid his dues in the SoHo art scene way back when. He was awarded two NEA grants for sculpture back then. And taught at various colleges and universities in the NYC metro area in art (including Princeton and U of Penn. in Philly). He feels like a regular at The Camel Saloon and BoySlut. He has published at The Mind[less] Muse, Jellyfish Whispers, Napalm and Novocain, Dead Snakes and Pyrokinection among others. He has recently had a poem nominated for The Best on The Net. He lives in CT with a few farms up and down the road works in Manhattan. His train ride to and from NYC is his solace, study and den where it all begins and ends.