HeyJaredFrania Hall: imperfect poems, writings and meanderings.
Imperfect poetry and fiction experiments: nature, time, history.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 1, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 29, 2026
Latest issues
River Return (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published Sprawling, playing in the mud Bobbing the boats and tugging with the moon. I am spread thin and wide Half sunken in the stew of sand and silt, An echo calls, awakes my muscle memory. I grasp the cord to draw me back, Reweave my water branches Leaving the estuary fields of my maturity. I slide past the canals and conduits of men The unseen ant hills and castles in the air; I reach my glistening youth, draw birdsong to my arm
Seed Time (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published I hold unstoppable forces; Eons of germinations I am eternity in suspension, A latent pulse, a coiled helix. Time holds its breath, Compressed, fold on fold In my tight grasp; The strongest web in the smallest scale, The muscle memory in my enchanted form, My fragile, feathered tree, my light-spun globe, The weightlessness in my full force. A flicker of sunlight, A snag on a breeze and, With nature’s sigh, I am released lik
Midsummer Light (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedLight turns inside out No source, no centre Air thinning pauses, waits Woodland darkness crackles Against pearlescent sky Translucency manifests. Startled by stealthy midsummer Twilight animals step out Foxes stalk the seams of night Deer shift between the shadows A bundled Owl lands unhidden on the road Nighttime acts made public Caught between mirrors of light and dark. Later the cool light slips askew Thresholds falter An
Skin-taut Heatwave (opens the original)
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Skin-taut heatwave. Everything is holding itself in, thin and brown. It is an odd sort of winter. In actual winter things are still busy, tiny green things working towards the light. But here at the heart of August, as the drought persists and the temperatures rise in fall in and out of heatwave, and the earth is dust, thin and pallid, things have stopped. Though flies still spin, birds chitter, cats lounge fully spread out in dirt. To note – I have realised how much cats depend on at least some
Heat Stasis (opens the original)
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July, the ongoing heat and the lack of rain have brought the garden to a point of stasis. There is little movement as plants and flowers have had to wait out the drought. The water shortage means we can only watch and hope; we reuse odd bits of leftover drinking bottles and washing up bowls and empty the water butts. So we wait as the garden waits to see what can hang on. Everything is browning, but hopefully not dying. There is just a slight pall over the garden – a low level stress among the p
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