Hollis's profile
AGE:
31
LOC: Tempe, AZ
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 21
LOC: Tempe, AZ
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: June 21
The purpose of Zachary Hollis is to defend his empire of umbilical freedom from the sharp fragments of the outer-womb lifestyle, while maintaining a sensor sweep of the exterior region and a constant critical eye on what he thinks to be himself. He wants the minute to explode into the universal expanse and collapse back into itself. He wants his poems to grow large like old oaks and burn back down to less than seed. Each movement feeding the other—impervious to woodpeckers, unconcerned. Visit him at www.zacharyhollis.com.
Items
Version 1
2 Reviews
0 Comments
We were going to bury the body in lava, or stand it up inside a hill of sand; or salt; or molten-rock-- just somehow groundward, but under the parish of the sun our shadows silhouette blue dreams, so we bury our bodies under leaves in the cool loam ministry, and cloud over the sky with shadows of ourselves.
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
4 Reviews
2 Comments
Water flows back in sparing temporarily exposed tidal organisms, some prey. Once again sovereign embankments separate in the expanse of one lunar cycle, covered by an unseen force, which pulls into place a shelter, a sea.
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
3 Reviews
1 Comment
Plug into small time, big thinker— Lonesome only goes so far. God. God. God. Streams of self-reliance that equal small processes. Let’s do that thing you wish you could— Let’s go let go. Zachary Hollis
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
4 Reviews
0 Comments
Reckless and able to plunge into catastrophic delicacies (What teenager lurks under the dusty throw-rugs of hot, hot lusty nights stripped away?) Hey. Long gone past, (hush-hush) problems are problems now (why dwell, why dwell?) Kindness is not the answer ever, ever (for the euphoria junkie— the needy heartless: Drive to gain interests and drive to repeat pasts, the flightless unimaginative collaborative caste: Flail an’ jitter arms inside) wanting to be cupped in a small saucer, coupl...
Ratings & Rankings
Version 1
6 Reviews
0 Comments
Before everything disposable took up more space in minds than the value of wide open space, dreams seemed endless. Born decades later than several economic booms, before outsourcing, when things were built to last, days were filled with satisfaction. The way possibilities are infinite in children’s minds, before beauty became a rarity, when there was no space for vague sadness or medication because hands weren’t idle, and the only gratification was to satiate hunger from a long day of hard...
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Reviews
I like what you are doing here. Economy of language, not convoluted, sincere. I invite you to submit to the magazine I work for, we are now accepting submissions for our Fall issue: www.mergepoetry.com (Please read the submission guidelines.) Z. Hollis
I think if you attempted to write with a more genuine voice, rather than attempting to be or sound "poetic," you would be happier with the results. The line "For it is the subtle dance" sounds like a person trying to sound "poetic," which is common for a person searching for their own voice. I give you a five though, because you obviously have potential.
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