Saturday, August 3, 2019



We passed the carrion, the mangled deer, 
On the side of a bend in the road
That wended its way up the hill
To a lookout I wanted the kids to see.
Ooooooooooooooooo, they scream,
daddy gross it smells roll up the window!
The rank gamy invasiveness of odor.
I wanted them to see the valley stretching out below
The mist enshrouded trees
The generational timelessness of 
All that falls below,
All the unnavigable naturalness
They'll never probably go.
But don’t stand too close to the edges.
Goddammit what did I say!
You don’t know enough of 
the buzzed moss or
blotched whitened lichens,
the blood against rock
in the noonday sun,
the slippery humors
that ooze from the 
dead along the way


No comments: