Thursday, May 23, 2013

Tom Hatch- A Poem

My Village Wine Store

A Slim Bottle of Wine
Beauty comes in all sizes 
Her fineness fingering
A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc
A smile showing a Pino Noir 
Her hair flows over 
The wine racks at the end of my day
A chuckle a laugh 
On a ladder retrieving
A Remy Martin
Tilted head looking
Lashes a hole in her
Jeans smooth flesh
Above both knees
White wine
My dreaming thoughts
As I carry my bag of
Wine across
The parking lot
To my car listening
To some band
That is so vintage
The young wine never knew existed
All I can say is she
Is a slim bottle of fine wine
Or when she gets crazy 
Vodka on the rocks
Over jewels I imagine
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.

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