by Anke Hodenpijl
Poor man flashbacks of his youth stretch from his nightmares, collapse into his hands, for all to see. Poor man the dander of his suffering sheds into the clamor of his decline. Befuddled words elope, like a murmuration of starlings darkening the sky. Poor man, my father, memories he struggles to smother, ooze into his final days.
Anke Hodenpijl believes the practice of writing brings her closer to life. Her work reflects on the intersections between immigration and assimilation, spirituality, family, racism, and sexuality. Her work is published in several anthologies and literary journals. She connects with other poets as a facilitator at the Art and Spirituality Center in Bakersfield and as a Critique Group leader with the Writers of Kern.
Wow, Anke! Striking poem:
” the dander of his suffering sheds
into the clamor of his decline.”
Thank you! xoA