the story so far

poetry by daniel hurst

  • hope

    if I could write the sunshine so bright the blind could see if I could write a dinner you’d eat with rabid glee; if I could write a dance step that’d get your feet to tap whose hurried lines would be sublime and end in choral claps; if I could write the chains that bind…

  • the things I could have seen

    I’ve walked along the treaded trail swam the swimmed sea drove atop the driven road and seen what was to see. I’ve left behind the other path and took the wider one – I choice I made in wisdom? or A choice I should have shunned? The man I am in wholeness asks, the one…

  • in another life, when we were cats

    tacky couches, flower prints…