Stuart Henson
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Two poems by Stuart Henson
Marginal for Michael Brown And let us not dispraise the quiet manwho on a hundred acres sets back tenfor voles to tunnel in, finches to congregate,for beasts too slender for the eye to seeto populate, flit, crawl in at their whim.Some narrow path where small heathbutterflies proliferate, where upright parsleysalts the hedge and trefoil…
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‘Aged’: a poem by Stuart Henson
Aged I’m thinking again of Gallagher’s strat. You can’t get that sweated scrubbed-out look from a custom shop, and you can’t cheat it down like some shabby-chic with a sanding-block. Just the road-house hours—in the clubs with the crowd and the guys with real chops. And drinking too much.…
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‘Encounter’, a version of Baudelaire, by Stuart Henson
Encounter Traffic was howling in my ears and eyes that moment when we passed—she in her slim black dress, a gloved hand tugging up the hem— and for one instant all things clarified. Those slo-mo seconds in a film when fate throws two together and the soundtrack dims and he looks…