William Rodden

Hudson

I
I lept over the valley
     with the moon.
I drank the seawater tide
     as my tea.
I was the crunching
     Autumn apple on
     The tree.
I hid behind the hanging mask
     of the raccoon.

II
Let the seed in the core
     take root.
Let the shad spawn
     glisten beneath the waves.
Let the nine times twelve
     blossoms on the magnolia tree
     overwhelm the scent of graves.
Let every face card be drawn
     from the crimson deck
     of the diamond suit.

III
When the corn is ripe
     I fly with the crow.
When the smoke rises
     From the twisted pipe
     I rest with the ashes below.
When the serpent draws
     The warmth from the silent stone
     I vibrate the early elm with song
          -Alone.


UFO

a miniature cluster
of hairless green
alien heads
growing malignantly
in the wet bathtub.

she picks up the slimy pod
and smashes for puss,
splitting the grand cranium
with a garden hoe.

}snot and brain jellies leak out{

two days later, sitting
beside the yellow scum of pine
pollen strewn atop the pond:
conjunctivitis.


About the Author

William Rodden is from Ulster County.

William has been a featured reader at the Upstate Artists Guild Lark Street series, as well as a participant of O+ Festival’s 2023 Literary Salon. His poetry has been published in Chronogram, Pendragon Magazine, and the Dudley Doings.

His confusing and unclear micropoetry can be found on Instagram @octoberhaiku and on Bluesky @octoberhaiku.bsky.social.

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