9 Jan 2014, 10:11am
Writing
by

leave a comment

Archeology (3)

Sudden Valley

Green chair
Red door
What’s the difference

We are in a sudden valley
And suddenly that means everything
Flowers, like a post card
Saturated with red
All the green daffodils unsprung
And I am turning into my own self

*

Turn turn
All the reasons in space
Time a little ditch
     between two roads

The way I got nowhere with you
Or with dad
Trying to hunt, 15, pine needles
     still in the woods there
     making my feet small again
Hiding from the animals and the wind
     the creeping rain and the fog

The sun not much friendlier
You don’t remember it you weren’t
     there
That makes everything difficult
Necessary

What did I call myself
Alone in the treestand
Pocketing hands
Waiting
Waiting to come down

*

I remember the Pentateuch
And most of the rest
The order is confusing

The other night before sleep I tried
     to recite them

I kept forgetting Hosea

*

We would later find out they were
     planted too close together
Cross pollination became impossible
So each weed became its own
     mother father
Became ingrown in the soil

But what’s the difference
Azaleas or poinsettias or tulips
Monet’s poppies

Look at them on the ridge
Turning green and red

This gas station sits here
     in the middle of nowhere
Collecting aura
Gas is $4.20 a gallon
I am too fucking thirsty to be here
     with anyone but you

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>