Monday, July 21, 2014

Stumped


Sometimes the forest is replete with stumps
The scattered old growth left is a farcical costume
A seasonal fire to return the nutrients 
Would have probably been better

Instead the roots link back
The children anchoring the preserve
The ideas of a castaway fatherhood and husband
Wanting to regrow, seeing the chainsaws

Grinding whirl chucking splinters
Like a deranged fairy cloud seizing hope
Like a banished plaything for a boy too short to qualify
As the man, so much anger repressed

Wanting progression from this mouth full of sawdust
Words blunted irrelevant as focus diverts
To redefine family into this transmogrified fleet of branches
Gnarled gray and brittle straining to drink

A broken heart all the more obvious
Contemplating how to ever feel that best friend lover again
Gazing over this bosque with a lackluster grin
Accepting the echo of fallen trunks and the reverberating silence

Booms every reason to believe this pattern will continue
Because the agony is in the seed
The patterned sequence of appearance and nature

Wanting more than anything to be wrong 

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