Hello!
BIO: Henry "Hank" Sosnowski, South Chicago born Polish-American followed his gypsy heart across America from Alaska's Aleutian Islands to North Carolina's shore. Following Brecht's edict that an artist must "First feed the face, then talk right and wrong," Sosnowski worked as a newsboy, caddy, fry cook, steel worker, blues musician, pipefitter, pool hustler/card shark, landscaper, railroad brakeman, auto part salesman, actor, warehouse manager, woman's clothing rep, waiter, missionary, writer, Alaskan game warden, book store manager, morning DJ, corporate VP, marketing director, dishwasher, factory worker, car salesman, handyman, customer service rep, janitor, teacher, hot rod show promoter, Internationally published poet.
Sosnowski currently lives and teaches in Reno, Nevada, inspiration for his one-man traveling show: "Write Before Your Eyes! Hank the Revelator - Live on Stage 24/7!" For one week, Sosnowski comes to town to write/perform/live on an outdoor stage replica of a 1930s writer's; garret, melding written, spoken and performance art.
Sosnowski is the winner of the 2006 Sierra Arts Foundation Writer's Grant and voted back to back Reno's best poet by Reno News and Review.
Enclosed are poems to be considered for publication. My poems have appeared in more than 3 dozen publications. I live in Reno, NV, where I work as an English and Poetry professor.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Henry Sosnowski
Life Force
Toes tangled
hair too
lost in each other
like sun fed moon
all light
all reflection
all same.
Tide runs
fear ebbs
washed out
to sea.
Tranquility
covers us
in salty fluids
of our own making.
Wrong Reflection
You can feel
the rush
down to
your toes
when the cop
in your rearview
hit’s the party lights
and your trunk
is loaded
with bad news.
Probable Cause
If you’ve had
more than six
sex partners
you probably
have herpes.
If you’ve had
less than six
sex partners
you’re probably
a comic book collector
living in mom’s basement.
Desdemona of the Heights
My head
in your lap,
on your back stoop,
from this angle
the midnight blue sky,
pinpricked sliver,
frames you.
Leaning forward
your hair shrouds the stars
a scented auburn curtain
narrowing around me,
shutting out their world
closing on your kiss
