Doug Van Hooser
Doug Van Hooser splits his time between southern Wisconsin, cycling and sculling, and Chicago where his play, “Hear Ye, Hear Ye”, will be produced this summer. His poetry has recently appeared in Poetry Quarterly, After Hours, Split Rock Review, and Chariton Review. His fiction can be found in Red Earth Review, Bending Genres, and Flash Fiction Magazine. More at dougvanhooser.com
People
are a test.
They lean towards the sun,
bend in the wind,
and flail in the current.
Expect more from the sunrise,
but sit and gaze at the sunset.
They flock, they hibernate,
spit lightning and thunder righteousness
into a mound of contempt.
Find fault and relish the taste.
Park their souls in suffocating words.
People trip and stumble,
break an arm to brake a fall.
Loosen their grip and hold hands.
Pretend up and down,
backwards and forwards,
leads to the same place.
Lose sight of the beginning,
baffled by the middle,
intoxicated with the end.
Closure a door with a frosted window.
They demand more than a stare,
give like a rotted log.
Appetites never sated,
people flourish on the scent of possibility.
The bait everyone nibbles
and a lucky few swallow whole.
Sheila-Na-Gig online 