Hudson Everett:

Hudson Everett is the Senior Poetry Editor for San Francisco State's Transfer Magazine, and he writes poetry and prose constantly. Occasionally some of it is good.

 

To See More of Hudson's work visit: 

https://poetrybrothers.tumblr.com/ 


A sample of:

Portraits of people working in a bank building downtown chicago on friday in the winter

by Hudson Everett

Investment Banker

Startled, the phone slipped from his light grasp, unfinished thoughts hung on the screen.

It landed precariously on the grate. He saw that with a single shift it would fall through, and his evening's plans with it.

He got down on his knees, not worrying about the dirty sidewalk soiling his slacks, and whispered, "Please. Please don't fall through. I need you."

He put one bare hand on the concrete for balance and like the arcade game he bet his last quarter, dropped his arm like a crane and made his grab. Did he have it? Would it drop? Would he win the prize?

He stood, shaking with victorious fervor, only then realizing he'd been holding his breath the whole time.

 

Personal Assistant

Just another in the huddled mass, she drew in the smoke, exhaling it into the chilled air. They stayed as close to the building as they could, hoping they would be shielded from the piercing winds that swept through the downtown streets from Lake Michigan with devastating effect. Her long overcoat was pretty, and more expensive than she could have afforded. The undercoat was strictly utilitarian. Both covered her professional ensemble, a blouse and pencil skirt.

She sighed. Is this what I went to business school for?

Another long drag, and she dropped the cigarette butt, crushing it with the toe of her high heeled shoe.


A sample of:

Bus Stop by Hudson Everett

The bus stop at S. Homan Ave and  W.

This is the  ^  C

    street  /    o

       corner.      n

  g

Where I bled        r

  for my wallet,      e

   and phone,          s

and idealism.       s

W

a

y

A man walking on the sidewalk south on Homan Ave

did not stop when I cried out maybe 7, 8 feet from him.

He walked on the salty concrete, I knelt on the icy asphalt.

To Read about the rest ofPortraits of people working in a bank building downtown chicago on friday in the winter and Bus stop pick up the first Issue of Crooked Teeth: Summer in the city