Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: These Are Not My Words (I Just Wrote Them) by Donovan Hufnagle

THESE ARE NOT MY WORDS

(I JUST WROTE THEM)

by

Donovan Hufnagle

Poetry
Publisher: Resource Publications
Publication Date: July 22, 2024
Page count: 106 pages

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SYNOPSIS:

Echoing Chuck Palahniuk’s statement. “Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known,” this collection explores identity. These poems drift down rivers of old, using histories private and public and visit people that I love and loathe. Through heroes and villains, music and cartoons, literature and comics, science and wonder, and shadow and light, each poem canals the various channels of self and invention. As in the poem, “Credentials,” “I am a collage of memories and unicorn stickers…[by] those that have witnessed and been witnessed.”

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ENJOY AN EXCERPT:

Refurbished

 

Susan taught me that poetic energy lies

between the lines, white noise scratching

and clawing between images, ideas,

       things…

And like a poem,

the chair was molded by my Tio’s hands,

an antique wooden upholstered desk chair.

 

My Tio moved from Durango, Mexico

to Fort Worth in 1955.

 

He became a mason and wood worker.

 

He bricked the stockyards

 

He built the signs

 

He died in 2005.

 

Now,

matted. Worn. Faded floral design. Wood

scarred like healing flesh.

 

The arms torn, ratted by the heft of his arms

and the stress of the days. The foam peeks

out.

 

The brass upholstery tacks rusted. I count

1000 of them. With each,

I mallet a fork-tongue driver under its head.

A tap, tap, tapping until it sinks beneath the tack,

until the tack springs from its place.

I couldn’t help but think of a woodpecker.

A tap, tap, tapping into Post Oak,

a rhythm…each scrap of wood falling to the ground

until a home is formed.

Until each piece of wood like the tacks removed

shelter something new.

 

I remove the staples, the foam, the fabric,

the upholstery straps

until it’s bones.

I sand and stain

until its bones shine.

 

I layer and wrap its bones with upholstery straps,

foam, fabric, staples and tacks.

New tacks, Brass medallions

adorning the whole, but holding it

all together—

its bones

its memories,

its energy.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

Donovan Hufnagle is a husband, a father of three, and a professor of English and Humanities. He moved from Southern California to Prescott, Arizona to Fort Worth, Texas. He has five poetry collections: These Are Not My Words (I Just Wrote Them), Raw Flesh Flash: The Incomplete, Unfinished Documenting Of, The Sunshine Special, Shoebox, and 30 Days of 19. Other recent writings have appeared in Tempered Runes Press, Solum Literary Press, Poetry Box, Beyond Words, Wingless Dreamer, Subprimal Poetry Art, Americana Popular Culture Magazine, Shufpoetry, Kitty Litter Press, Carbon Culture, Amarillo Bay, Borderlands, Tattoo Highway, The New York Quarterly, Rougarou, and others.

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