What the Hale: An Interview with Denis Hale

[denis hale]

Proust Questionnaire / and Title-Prompt

Thanks Tess. These are great questions!




If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

San Juan Capistrano


• What is the best gift you’ve received?

A CD from the band called Fugazi: End Hits


• Which hobby would you pursue if you had more time?

I would love to try acting!


• If you could have any super power what would it be?

To fly, fly, fly.


• What is the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?

Moved to Alaska in 1985.


• What was your most epic road trip?

Moving to Alaska, in 1985.


• What food brings back childhood memories?

Orange Popsicles


• Which book most influenced your life?

“The Pugilist At Rest” by Thom Jones


• What is the most valuable piece of advise you ever received?

Get over your bad self.


• If you could go back and relive one day in your life. Which one
would it be and why?

My birth. Because I can’t remember it!


• What advice would you give your ten year old self today?

Make some friends.


• What do you most admire in a man?

Intelligence


• What do you most admire in a woman?

Intelligence


• What word or phrase do you most over-use?

Right?


• Who are your favourite writers?

Thom Jones, Robert Stone, Barry Hannah, Denis Johnson, August Kleinzahler, Gregory Corso, Charles Bukowski, Roberto Bolano, John Irving, John Cheever, Kim Addonizio, Dorianne Laux


• Which artists do you most admire?

The band, Fugazi




And now, the Title:



This comes straight from a box of Instant Mashed Potatoes:



Hungry Jack



When you write, using this title -- the poem need not be about foodstuffs, only!



Maybe Kerouac, down to his last Saltine cracker?




Thank you so much, Angeline -- for having me!



This has been a blast.



Take good care, all!




Yours in Poetry,


D

 

[Angeline]

Hungry Jack

It was small potatoes
a mini mart off a boulevard
never mind where America
is full on nondescript
pass you by in a gritty blink
bodegas and cracked pavement
plastic bags that dance
in the whoosh of passing cars.
Small potatoes

but Jack is hungry guts
a'rumble itch and ache you
know the kind of hungry drags
you down in mucky malaise
hurts behind the eyes
blinding Sun or fucking rain.
He'd rather be a lizard
on a rock drinking up heat
eyes closed and dreaming
of nothing at all.

Life is hard. A gun
is easy money tracks
that follow train. Who can say
whether Jack remains,
a boy who had a mother,
loved a girl. It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter anymore
when Pops screams No
and Mom falls red
is Jack then sated? No
simply over, simply
shit on shingles.

 

[todski28]

*Hungry Jack*

hunger, that little chemical release
that says eat,
primordial, caveman days stuff,
don't eat, die,
simple mathematics
Jack hungered
oh he hungered,
but food was the last thing
his chemicals were craving
he had the hunger for
her lips to linger, on any part
of his body,

this obsession need, raw
possessed his mind, he felt
urges, that surged, but
knew not how to proceed,
a single glance in that direction
a look, took his breath he would
have to flee shied by shame, lamed
by his own desire
he tried to let it be known
that her presence delivered
chemical bursts of crazy

how she laughed,
how he hungered still
yet now he flamed,
raw raged, blamed
her
the scene he staged,
to release hunger hold

He took her in his mind
before taking a run of
pain across his wrist
out the front of her house,
he hungered as life
fled,
bleeding, bled
as he closed his eye
the hunger died,
sweet release.

 

[Angeline]

Nice work Tods.

 

[todski28]

Nice work Tods.

You are a hard act to follow! nice work seems like lowly praise for your poem,

you paint broad flowing pictures,

I mean
"he'd rather be a lizard
on a rock drinking up heat"

this is one of the coolest phrases I think I have read

 

[Angeline]

You are a hard act to follow! nice work seems like lowly praise for your poem,

you paint broad flowing pictures,

I mean
"he'd rather be a lizard
on a rock drinking up heat"

this is one of the coolest phrases I think I have read

At the risk of disgusting the lurkers with my overweening compliments, this~

this obsession need, raw
possessed his mind, he felt
urges, that surged, but
knew not how to proceed,

is awesome, sounds like song.

 

[champagne1982]

Hungry Jack

Lived and died down in the holler
y'know, the one the crick runs through
not t'other with the path
and the orchard
mebbe had Jack the apple trees
he'd still be here but no, t'aint
likely 'nough to tell the tale
thatta way.

Ise figger'n he'un war jest up
to meet tha day when Cindy
ran 'cross his path an' we'uns
all ken Cindy ha' titties 'n ass
ta die fer. Welp, so did Jack.

He walked out onta his stoop
'n stared as she trod down
an' crossed the crick, gettin'
her shorties all wet n'all.

I be thinkin' tha' lil sissy
looked all tasty an' juicy
like a rack o' ribs jus'
outta the 'cue and Jack
wud be a-wantin' some
bacon fer his brekka.

He hurt tha' girl some bad
sh'aint ever bin tha same
as when she went ovah
the crick in Jack's holler.

But same can be said fer Jack
his'n's haid is sittin' out thar
on Daddy's porch, right 'side
the steps and his mouf is full
stuffed wi' pig turd. I reckon
it be gone soon 'nuff tho'.

Da' doan hae much sense
o' smell but Mammy do
and she shore 'nuff runs
short on patience.

 

[Angeline]

Woah. Pig turds and all lol. You went dark, too. Must be the season.

I am changing the last line of my poem to "shit on shingles" in honor of your pig turds.

 

[todski28]

Seems every one is gearing up for Halloween!
Champagne, how you made that seem like I was conversing with a complete stranger is beyond me!

Thanks Dennis for your insights into your poetic mind and all the sample work you shared with us. I appreciate the time you took to respond graciously to all posed questions, I might have to take a look at your book, be the first book on poetry I buy or even look at.

 

[butters]

Seems every one is gearing up for Halloween!
Champagne, how you made that seem like I was conversing with a complete stranger is beyond me!

Thanks Dennis for your insights into your poetic mind and all the sample work you shared with us. I appreciate the time you took to respond graciously to all posed questions, I might have to take a look at your book, be the first book on poetry I buy or even look at.

i'd like to echo this sentiment, dennis. yours was an interesting interview well worth reading and exposure to your writing was welcome.

 

[butters]

really liking the title-prompt responses so far. will return with more to say when i feel a little less disgustingly sneezy and bleuch and can focus.

 

[butters]

hungry Jack


are you hungry, Jack?
i'm no food for the mind
but a man gotta eat, right?
and there's a book on the night stand
you can read if you please
while i sleep
while you smoke
so
put down your fork, Jack
sample this

 

[todski28]

hungry Jack


are you hungry, Jack?
i'm no food for the mind
but a man gotta eat, right?
and there's a book on the night stand
you can read if you please
while i sleep
while you smoke
so
put down your fork, Jack
sample this

sweet *licks lips*

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Hungry Jack

Room service, how may I help you?

Mr. Nicholson would like one
of everything on the breakfast menu.
Five pots of coffee, sweet rolls and
hot water for tea. Got that? Oh!
And five Mimosas

Yes Ma'am. Right away.

Panic in the kitchen, under staffed,
it's Sunday after all. We don't
expect a movie star to order
a breakfast orgy. How much
can one man eat anyway?

Eggs bennie, omelettes of several
kinds, soft boiled eggs, platters
of bacon and racks of toast.
Waffles with maple, muffins
and cinnamon buns.

Tray after tray is readied
and steadied, trundled up
to suite 107 where Jack
must be starving.

The man opens up himself;
waves us in with that famous,
wolf-grin.

Here you are ladies, breakie.

And four lithe beauties unfold
from the King sized.

You didn't think it was all for me?
I'm a man of many appetites
but that would be just greedy!

 

[butters]

sweet *licks lips*

heh. thanks it's all i could manage off the cuff

Room service, how may I help you?

Mr. Nicholson would like one
of everything on the breakfast menu.
Five pots of coffee, sweet rolls and
hot water for tea. Got that? Oh!
And five Mimosas

Yes Ma'am. Right away.

Panic in the kitchen, under staffed,
it's Sunday after all. We don't
expect a movie star to order
a breakfast orgy. How much
can one man eat anyway?

Eggs bennie, omelettes of several
kinds, soft boiled eggs, platters
of bacon and racks of toast.
Waffles with maple, muffins
and cinnamon buns.

Tray after tray is readied
and steadied, trundled up
to suite 107 where Jack
must be starving.

The man opens up himself;
waves us in with that famous,
wolf-grin.

Here you are ladies, breakie.

And four lithe beauties unfold
from the King sized.

You didn't think it was all for me?
I'm a man of many appetites
but that would be just greedy!

this really summons up the spirit of his character - i can see that wolvish grin right now

Hungry Jack

It was small potatoes
a mini mart off a boulevard
never mind where America
is full on nondescript
pass you by in a gritty blink
bodegas and cracked pavement
plastic bags that dance
in the whoosh of passing cars.
Small potatoes

but Jack is hungry guts
a'rumble itch and ache you
know the kind of hungry drags
you down in mucky malaise
hurts behind the eyes
blinding Sun or fucking rain.
He'd rather be a lizard
on a rock drinking up heat
eyes closed and dreaming
of nothing at all.

Life is hard. A gun
is easy money tracks
that follow train. Who can say
whether Jack remains,
a boy who had a mother,
loved a girl. It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter anymore
when Pops screams No
and Mom falls red
is Jack then sated? No
simply over, simply
shit on shingles.

particularly liked these passages, and shit on shingles is a fitting end. the lizard visual is really strong - it summons so many other words, mentally, to support the picture, like 'basking' and 'basilisk' and 'iguana' and the colours and textures of the skin/rock. it's so solid there i feel i could hold it in my hand and feel its weight, its heat.

*Hungry Jack*

hunger, that little chemical release
that says eat,
primordial, caveman days stuff,
don't eat, die,
simple mathematics
Jack hungered
oh he hungered,
but food was the last thing
his chemicals were craving
he had the hunger for
her lips to linger, on any part
of his body,

this obsession need, raw
possessed his mind, he felt
urges, that surged, but
knew not how to proceed,
a single glance in that direction
a look, took his breath he would
have to flee shied by shame, lamed
by his own desire
he tried to let it be known
that her presence delivered
chemical bursts of crazy

how she laughed,
how he hungered still
yet now he flamed,
raw raged, blamed
her
the scene he staged,
to release hunger hold

He took her in his mind
before taking a run of
pain across his wrist
out the front of her house,
he hungered as life
fled,
bleeding, bled
as he closed his eye
the hunger died,
sweet release.

a lot to like here, tods. i keep seeing some astute original phrasing in your latest writes - places where you've taken what might have been more ordinary wording and given it a twist to make it something notable, supporting the storyline of the pieces. so, looks like you're gonna be a twistery kind of writer, and that's cool

Hungry Jack

Lived and died down in the holler
y'know, the one the crick runs through
not t'other with the path
and the orchard
mebbe had Jack the apple trees
he'd still be here but no, t'aint
likely 'nough to tell the tale
thatta way.

Ise figger'n he'un war jest up
to meet tha day when Cindy
ran 'cross his path an' we'uns
all ken Cindy ha' titties 'n ass
ta die fer. Welp, so did Jack.

He walked out onta his stoop
'n stared as she trod down
an' crossed the crick, gettin'
her shorties all wet n'all.

I be thinkin' tha' lil sissy
looked all tasty an' juicy
like a rack o' ribs jus'
outta the 'cue and Jack
wud be a-wantin' some
bacon fer his brekka.

He hurt tha' girl some bad
sh'aint ever bin tha same
as when she went ovah
the crick in Jack's holler.

But same can be said fer Jack
his'n's haid is sittin' out thar
on Daddy's porch, right 'side
the steps and his mouf is full
stuffed wi' pig turd. I reckon
it be gone soon 'nuff tho'.

Da' doan hae much sense
o' smell but Mammy do
and she shore 'nuff runs
short on patience.

dayum, tess! this is unforgiving, isn't it? guess she was 'to die fer'

 

[champagne1982]

Seems every one is gearing up for Halloween!
Champagne, how you made that seem like I was conversing with a complete stranger is beyond me!

Thanks Dennis for your insights into your poetic mind and all the sample work you shared with us. I appreciate the time you took to respond graciously to all posed questions, I might have to take a look at your book, be the first book on poetry I buy or even look at.

I'm blaming David Mitchell and his novel Cloud Atlas. There's a character's voice narrating the part "Sloosha's Crossin' an' Ev'rythin' After" that got me yarnin' in that tone... s'all . Yay, tis ev'rythin'.

 

[todski28]

I'm blaming David Mitchell and his novel Cloud Atlas. There's a character's voice narrating the part "Sloosha's Crossin' an' Ev'rythin' After" that got me yarnin' in that tone... s'all . Yay, tis ev'rythin'.

I don't know if you have seen the movie Django Unchained? but it felt like I was being explained a narrative scene from a lady straight from that movie.

 

[todski28]

heh. thanks it's all i could manage off the cuff

a lot to like here, tods. i keep seeing some astute original phrasing in your latest writes - places where you've taken what might have been more ordinary wording and given it a twist to make it something notable, supporting the storyline of the pieces. so, looks like you're gonna be a twistery kind of writer, and that's cool

Twistery? sounds like an interesting place to be, I got no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing still, just trying to write at the moment and see where it all ends up,

exploring and playing around with words and sound

 

[Angeline]

Twistery? sounds like an interesting place to be, I got no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing still, just trying to write at the moment and see where it all ends up,

exploring and playing around with words and sound

I know what she means. You are getting twisty with the words. Or maybe just twisted lol. Either way it is working out well!

 

[todski28]

I know what she means. You are getting twisty with the words. Or maybe just twisted lol. Either way it is working out well!

If I'm getting twisted I'm blaming this place , I had a perfect childhood, great teenage years and young adolescence was filled with fun frolicking adventures.......

maybe a stretch lol,

 

[butters]

If I'm getting twisted I'm blaming this place , I had a perfect childhood, great teenage years and young adolescence was filled with fun frolicking adventures.......

maybe a stretch lol,

nah, man, we're straightening you out it's all good. twistery's good. makes for surprises in a read. *nods*

 

[bogusagain]

Why don't I know Dennis Hale? Do I go missing that often?

Interesting, likeable and some of the poetry has grabbed me but it's so difficult to make an instant assessment and ask a worthwhile question.

I'm enjoying the thread though. I feel guilty for not having something worthwhile to say because I have enjoyed it.

 

[corndog_]

Why don't I know Dennis Hale? Do I go missing that often?

Interesting, likeable and some of the poetry has grabbed me but it's so difficult to make an instant assessment and ask a worthwhile question.

I'm enjoying the thread though. I feel guilty for not having something worthwhile to say because I have enjoyed it.

Bogus! Good to see you, you maniac!

Denis was active here several years ago and wrote rollicking verse that felt as much like a carnival ride as a poem. One of my favorites was titled "Wingman Must Hang in the Penalty Box" or something like that, which left readers with giant shit-eating grins on their faces.

You'd love him.