Jacob Hammer has been writing poetry for eight years and has received a Master of Fine Arts degree from Vermont College of Fine Arts. His poetry can be found in See Spot Run Literary Journal, Three and a Half Point 9, Fourth & Sycamore, Peacock Journal, Anti-Heroin Chic, Shantih (forthcoming), and has been featured in the Pine River Anthology.
Jacob emphaiszes that these poems explore the speaker's connection to nature and especially the incessant call of waters. At the same time, they also explore the connections that people form with each other and the pile of metaphors we are constantly peering through to achieve this end.
An Invitation You Will Find Buried in Your Papers Sometime Later
The sweat on my forehead
is a new baptism
The only house of worship I know
is any wave in any water
Would you join me there
I worship over the morning coffee
I worship in the shower
I worship over the dishes
fall into ecstasy in the Fall rains
am made a saint by the Ocean
I am no weaver
no orchestrator
no recorder or
replacer of the pieces
life snips away
Friend, give me the strings
of your life and I
will give you
nothing
because I am no master of strings
Come with me down
the wide river
in the boat I have made
of newspapers and Sunday bulletins
and we will kiss the sand
farewell
Come with me and we will
both be saints in the
rising waves
Water Worship
I want to replace
all the oxygen in me
so light and empty
No, I want to breathe in
the whole river
I want the wrinkles on my
fingers
permanent and
my cells
everyone of them swollen
and drunk with it all
I want to live in ocean
pulled
out and up and
sinking low with the moon
I need to put out
the fires wandering across my
back
and up the muscles of my legs
I crouch and turn
right and left
with tired eyes
and curse the animal
that feeds the breath
curse everything around me
the fire won’t illuminate
the edges of
Time to go out in the
cold without a coat on
and at least make it to the creek
if not the river
not the ocean
then a creek
To bow and make
breath a prayer again
Metaphors in the Moment before I Answer
Yes, I’m thinking of myself as a tree again
The course of the river has been moving
further away each year
But I don’t think it’s much to worry about
Let us be real
I am a man
and I move away from the river
I am the one who often forgets to love the afternoons
before they pass on
In my half-awake state
I can be anywhere
the dream world is quicker and I’ve
been trying to live fast
I am not sure where my roots are anymore
my eyes keep pulling me off to the horizon
my ears pull me to the sea
The feeling of wings dragging behind me again
dirtied and baptized in
melt-off from street corners
Now the smell of rain in the morning
Now her grace as she walks off in a towel
vague French Roast in the air
Is she the current
Curtains are only beautiful when they move
how they talk with the windows
quietly when no one is in the room
The windows cannot stop watching
and the curtains cannot comfort with their blindness
I don’t want to go outside
But I am glad it’s raining
Walk off
Leave on lunch break
let them figure it out
in an hour or so
when they finally open
their eyes to a window
I’ll be on the road north
turning on my headlights
at the last minute
I’ll stop and buy gas
at one of those halogen islands of lights
a ways out of town
buy cigarettes and a candy bar
then turn off my phone and start the car again
There’s a snowstorm coming
but I’ve already made a map
of its whims
and I’ll ride them the rest of the way up
Up to some peninsula town
with two bars
and a pier into the lake
I’ll sleep in my car
listening to the radio
and the wind curling against the windows
all night
The lake’s like that
bringing you out to the farthest point
then asking you to have a seat
in the cold
with the light fading only faster
and faster
My Body Quivers in this Wind and I Like It
I am a tree full of termite tunnels
about to be blown down
I am one of those people you see
walking alone at night
who seem never to look up
You are listening
you are saying it’s only a little wind
you are a curb-side vendor
selling your quota
smiling at the sun
with bugs between your teeth
I still love you
Now we’re two people standing in a house with no music
playing
arguing over what to have for
dinner
when to turn off the lights
I’m going crazy
singing songs to myself
all day
You can listen in
but I won’t look at you
‘til I’m finished
I don’t feel like speaking
until this song is done
