Zoned for Conservation

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

They say only the strong survive!

Looking around this room,

I can tell that is certainly the case.

A mighty tree has come crashing down

The whole forest heard it fall.

The Girl Scout Cookie

Benjamin Jenkins, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

Portsmouth was settled in 1630.

My first glimpse through universe-rimmed black holes was in 1987.

Smells of rain spattered cobblestone, dusk, and wet wooden framed brick structures

Churn with diesel fuel and brackish ocean.

I’m surrounded by the building of burned hours…

Dunes at High Head

Benjamin Jenkins, Cape Cod, life, New England, poem, poems, poetry, writing

Unrelenting heat.

Sand burns the sole, toes

Dive like the seal on

The Atlantic porch,

Wrap High Head turrets.

Grass- sharp and sticky,

Threads of cool moisture

Hold the windswept sand

Of time together.

Surface Tension

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, writing

Lurking wind; Port-City brick sea

Polluted by the gull scream,

Sticky gelato melt,

Salty sting of deep fryer.

Foamy Hampton Beach brine

Soaks into pores,

Protects me from the sun.

A humid one.

Amongst a throng of wandering galaxies:

Painted toes like candy;

Thonged in Birkenstock.

Salt and sand powdered thighs

Gazing through the back of hands

At the Atlantic horizon.

Fish for a smile,

Feel chest crash

At cresting wave.

Against battened down ducks

A model of Beech wood

Fair less float.

Working the night away

Benjamin Jenkins, poem, poetry, writing

Port City walks of life,

Brick and old industry.

Pull Little Dogs from Great Bay.

Crushed ice by the pound

Keeps them on display.

Price liquor and ceviche

For the booze hounds.

I wonder how long

This waking life will last.

A snapshot, shuttering for a century,

A blur of tattoos and painted toenails,

Filter five hour long exposures.



House Gimlet,

A smoke and pancake.

Kettle One Martini straight up-

“Why is this shaken and strained?”

“The system made me choose a modifier”.

“Add rocks”.

I have four draughts to draw

From a hydra headed tap.

When the back of the house shuts down

The front is soon to follow.

Count tilled treasure.

Smoke cigarettes trying to relieve the hunger.