Having returned to writing after a long time away, my poems often seem concerned with time passing. “Their Hands Were Small, Their Voices Clear”—to be human perhaps is to be deeply attached to situations we know will inevitably change. “Elegy For Your Red Jacket” started with the image of a red jacket across a small lake, worn by someone known, or perhaps someone, on a different path, who could have been known. The poem evolved into a portrait of life as composed of many tenuous choices and gestures—the desire or failure to connect, one path taken at the expense of many possible others.

Charles Hensler lives and writes in the Pacific Northwest. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Shore, One Hand Clapping, Pidgeonholes, Parentheses, ballast, boats against the current and others.

T: @chaswriter